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AN 




NGLISH 




ARNER 



Volume VII. 




MlffiEiNlHllWyiRE 






\Efl.HISTOR/ HATH TRIUMPHED 
OVER TIME: WHICH BESIDES IT, 
NOTHING BUT ETERNITY HATH 
TRIUMPHED OVERl'ro^-^ 

<SirMl.BafevQrTi, 




PR 

y.7 



Contents of tbe ^etentf) 2IoIume. 



PAGE 



T[hom.\s] D[ei.onev]. Three Ballads on the Armada fight, (Aug. 

1588.) ". 39 

R. L[iNCHE ?]., Gentleman. Diella. Certain Sonnets, adjoined 

to the amorous Poem of Dom Diego and Gvneura. (1596.)... . 185 

Sir Francis Vkre. The Commentaries of Sir Francis Vere, 
being divers Pieces of Service wherein he had command; 
7vritten by hijnself in way of Commentary, 1589-1601. (? 1606.) 57 

Lyrics, Elegies, &^c. First Set of Madrigals. By John 

WiLBVE. (April 1598.) , 325 

William Kemp. A'emp's nine days' wonder. Performed in a 
dance from London to Norwich. Coiitaining the Pleasure, 
Pains, and kind Entertaiiunent of WiLLlAM Kemp, between 
London and that city, in his late Morrice, (April 1600.) 15 

An. Sc. Gentleman. DAiPHANTUs,^or The Passions of Love. 
Comical to read, but Tragical to act : as full of Wit, as Ex- 
perience. Whereunto is added, The Passionate Alan's Pilgrim- 
age. (1604.) 379 

[?] I loved a lass, a fair one / (.''1629.) il 

Edward Chamberlayne. The social position of the English 

Established Clergy, in 166% A.H. (1669.) 243 

[T. B. (J. Eachard, D.D.)]. The Grounds atid Occasions of the 
Contempt of the Clergy and Religion Enquired into. In a 
Letter written to R. L. (8 Aug. 1670.) 245 

Hknrv Pitman. A Relation of the great sufferings and strange 
adventures of Henry Pitman, Chirurgeon to the late Duke of 
Monmouth. (10 June 1689.) 333 

J. Whickkr. An Account of the adventures of my Companions, 

since I left them on Saltatudos. (1689.) '.370 



6 Contents of the Seventh Volume. 

PAGR 

RoiJERT Lyde. a true and exact Account of the Retakuij^ of a 
Ship, called The Friends' Adventure, of Topsham, from the 
French : after she had been takot six days, and they loere upon 
the coasts of France with it four days. IVhere one Fni:;lishnian 
and a boy set upon Seven Frenchmen, killed two of them, took 
the other Five prisoners, and broui^ht the ship and them safe to 
Eni^land. (1693.) > 421 

Daniel Defoe. The True Born Eno;lishman. A Satyr. (Jan. 

1701.) ■■• V507 

Legion's J/t'wcr/if/. (14 May 1701.) ,577 

The History of the Kentish Petition. (July 1701.) , /553 

The Shortest- Way with the Dissenters : or Pro- 
posals for the Establishment of the Church. (1 Dec. 1702.): ... ^585 

A Hymn to the Pillory. (29 July 1703.) 1 «, 603 

The Prototype and Plan of the Review. (Sept. 

1704.) 61S 

Defoe's intention to stop the Review with No. 

looy aiid how it came to be continued. (Feb. 1705.) 620 

Preface to they First Volume of the Review. ( 1 705 .) 626 

Preface to the Second Volume of the Review. 



(1706.) r~ 631 

Preface to the Third Volume of the K&\\G^\. (1706.) 636 

Preface to the Fourth Volume of the Review. 

(1708.) 641 

Preface to the Fifth Volume of the Review. ( 1 709.) 644 

Preface to the Sixth Volume of the Review, (i 7 10.) 648 

Preface to the Seventh Volume of the Re\iew. 

(I7II-) ••• -^653 

The Revolution of 1688, its principles and pur- 
poses in a nutshell. (7-10 Jan. 1710.) 460 

An Appeal to Honour and Justice,xthoui^h it be 

of his worst Enemies. (Nov. 1714.) 465, 

Isaac Hickerstakf [/>., Richard Steele]. The miseries of the 

Domestic Chaplain, in x^xo. (23 Nov. 1710.) ^317 

Nestor Ironside [/.<•., Richard Steele]. Another description 
of the miseries of the Domestic Chaplain, in 1713, A.D. (17 Sept. 

1713) y-' 



FIRST LINES OF POEMS AND STANZAS. 



PAGE 

A Chaos free to choose 540 

A country hiss 25 

Adieu, sweet 3=8 

Advance thy double 614 

After some time 224 

A slistering cutlass 210 

Alas, what a wretched ... 330 

Alas, what hope of 328 

All his past Idndness ... 549 

All made of rugged 234 

All these, their barbarous 521 

All this they do in 393 

.VU vou that list to look 52 

Although his guise 391 

Although their bodies ... 34 
And as abroad we walked 12 

And by the happy 4^9 

And for our silly women 54 
And for that purpose ... 53 

And here begins our 522 

And here I would be ... 53' 

And if these ruffling 55 

And lest, by length of ... 523 

And lest example! 547 

And not content S3 

And nmv, I'artUiell '. ... 240 
And now, I am graced... 551 
And on the eighth of ... 47 
And pluck the spreading 53 

And pray thee 222 

And so She was 239 

And then bespake our... 50 

And think you not 54 

And this is my eternal... 420 
And though my love ... 329 

And ihus equipped 548 

And yours, dear 44 

An Knglishman is 535 

Art, and sweet Nature! 402 
Artksia, she must go... 418 
As a black veil upon the 389 
As for the general vices 534 

As frighted patients 545 

As if in heaven, he w as... 394 

A sister, yet Nature 400 

As Nature nmde him ... 388 
As o'er the mountains ... 414 
As the mild lamb runs... 403 

As we walked home 13 

As winter's rage 200 

As you discourse them 533 

At last, he calls to 224 

At last, he came 232 

At last, he craved 220 



PAGE 

At List, the Guider 214 

At last, the l.idy of 212 

.■\t length, her Grace 50 

At length, he grew as ... 40S 

At length, Ismenio 402 

At length looked up 39^ 

At length resolved, he... 411 

\ True Born 526 

At this, in wonder 39^ 

At this large offer 216 

Away then crept he 398 

Away, thou shalt not ... 326 

Ay me, can every 326 

P.[ake1wf,i.i, (the 548 

Beauty and Virtue 39' 

Beauty and Virtue are... 395 
Beauty and Virtue were 418 
Beauty and Wit in these 418 

I Beauty and 2 Wit 415 

Bless thou, this Love ... 386 

Blood must be my 419 

Blot not thy beauty I93 

Boldly encouraged by... 215 

Born to the needful 548 

Both fair, as eke their... 390 

Brave VliRH ! s8 

Break, brcik in pieces... 235 
Breathing forth sighs of 196 
Bright Star of PniKHt:s f 394 
Britannia's cries gave 542 

But, all in vain 238 

But, blinded as .She was 223 

But cruel .She, more 222 

I'nit England, modern ... 528 

liut first before his 412 

But GOD Almighty 44 

But grant the best ! 522 

But if he did the subjects 538 

But if the " Mutual 539 

But in this thankless ... 514 
But now, I will, thou ... 406 
But now uncased, he ... 227 

l$ut, pardon me 238 

But peace, Daiphanti'.s 405 

But .she is fair, and 406 

But .soft, here conies ! ... 410 

But speak he will ! 414 

But these false Spaniards 42 
But thou ine.vorablc art 231 

)5ut thou, my dear 197 

But thou wiist then as... 231 

Hut 'tis no matter 228 

Kut tush, thou fool I ... 403 



PACE 

By different steps 543 

By my Old Friend 55' 

By the first -•!<''(/>-(•.« ... 5.59 

By zeal, the Irish ; and 519 

Calls pLayers fools I 409 

Cease, Kyes, to 204 

Cheerful in labour 534 

Clothed all in green ...... 210 

Consumed by her I live 403 

Could but our ancestors 532 

Cruel, behold my 332 

Cruel to him that merits 236 

Cti'lU h.ad done some ... 198 

PAirHANTis hearing ... 398 

Daii'Hantls oft .sighed 401 

Dah'Hantus then 400 

Dear I.ove ! quoth he... 233 

Dear Pity, how ! ah ... 327 

Did I not love her 208 

Did not the Romans ... 55 

Diego now wrapped ... 239 

I )iKG<i wished this 213 

Die, helpless man 329 

Doth Faith and 'I'roth... 417 

Dkinkennkss, the 51S 

Dutch, Walloons 523 

End this enchantment... 207 

England unknown as yet 520 

Eternal JuvK, rain 237 

Even as in India once... 55 

Even the Gods 532 

EiiKiAi.y*:, her beauty ... 408 

EiKiAi..*:. 1 honour for 407 

EIUIAI..1-: is like Sleep 407 

Et'RiAr-i;, my eyes are 415 

EfKiAi..*; now spake ... 394 

E f K I A I ,.1-: so shows as .. . 388 

ElKlAi-.v, the elder 388 

EfRlAi,.<:, with good ... 4t8 

Exalted on thy Stool ... 605 

Fair ivory Brow 205 

Fear not, GvNElKA \ .. 230 

Fie, no ! Fond love hath 406 

Fi.i'>i<A gave me fairest 331 

Fly LovK. aloft to 326 

Fools out of favour 515 

For as the Scots, as 527 

For fair (IvNKiRA 219 

For glad he was 232 



8 First Lines of Poems and Stanzas. 



PAfiE 

For, now, no longer 217 

For sooner was he not... 217 

Fortune had crossed 398 

For, yet, they lived 217 

France justly boast 527 

French cooks, Scotch ... 525 

Friendship, th'abstracted 533 

FVoni thence, to 420 

From this amphibious... 521 

Full heavy news it was 223 

Fully revived, at last ... 414 

Give me my Scalop 4'9 

Go back to elder 'limes 516 

CJood gentle Sir ! your... 399 

Great Governor of 226 

Great is their number ... 40 

Great Monster of the ... 610 

Great Pokti.a.nu, ne'er 545 

GvNEUR.\ ! let him 234 

GvNiiUKA now delights 239 

iIvneura's mother 212 

GvNrjUR.\ this confirms 218 

GvNEUKA which desired 239 

Hail ! hieroglyphic 605 

Hearken awhile 208 

He dwelt in bright 541 

He looked! Thsy two... 399 

He looks upon himself... 414 

He loves, where Love... 391 

He made her first born 520 

Her beauty peerless ! ... 389 

Her cheeks were like ... 13 

He read, till words 411 

Hereat she paused 237 

Here did he end more... 417 

Here, dry, say they 235 

Here parted all, not 416 

Her faithful soldiers 48 

Her hair, like gold 12 

Her hair. Night's 389 

Her Hair of such 2ti 

Her Lips like ripened ... 211 

Her love to him was 218 

Her name, in golden 404 

Her royal ships 46 

Her Wit and I'.eauty ... 390 

He swears he loves 1 392 

He that can count 204 

He was a man 28 

He with more joy than 414 

His breath, he thinks ... 409 

His chin he strokes ! ... 408 

His face was fair 387 

Home goes Oiiico ...... 221 

How have thy opening 606 

Hunting he loved 210 

I always beg, yet never 329 

I fall, O stay me! 329 

If all our former 538 

If a poor .\uthor has ... 611 

1 feel my long-thought 230 

If e'er I sigh, it shall ... 405 

If e'er this Nation be ... 545 

If ever that Dame 14 



i'A(;e 

If thou didst know 230 

If thou didst know 231 

If your luistakes 533 

I heard her sing, but 413 

I invocate, to grace 386 

I know, within my 195 

I little dreamed of this 213 

I'll fallow up the 409 

I'll serve her, as the 405 

I loved a lass n 

In Catalonie 209 

In close intrigues 529 

I ne'er was wont to use 230 

In F'.ssex fair 40 

Inc;ratitl DE, a devil of 520 

Ingratitude, the worst... 549 

In happy hour 40 

Injoin the strange-born 226 

In like extremes 214 

Innumeral)le City 528 

In our late Revolution... 550 

In praising all, much ... 407 

Inquire of her, whose ... 233 

In summer time 12 

In summer time 13 

In the end, doth 238 

In their Religion, they... 532 

in these laments 232 

In these meanders 211 

In Venice fair, the city... 387 

In woods, groves, hills... 404 

1 sang sometimes my ... 330 

I sing that anthem 385 

I sing the old World in .. 385 

Is.MKMO in humble wise 415 

Is.MK.Nii) was resolved... 412 

IsME.NU), with 417 

IsMKNio with these 411 

I swear to thee 221 

I tell thee, Love! 232 

I told thee, 1, thou 231 

It was but lately 536 

Jewels, for virtue 416 

Know you also 31 

Lady, when I behold ... 328 

Lady, your words do ... 329 

Lately he wore the 547 

Left thus alone 211 

Let all that merit 607 

Let t-iu-ry Song be 544 

Let others ivlm 321 

Let those who, guiltless 223 

Like as a king, his 413 

Like doves 13 

Like he.aven's artist 403 

Like to a f.ilcon 193 

Lo, here, thou cruel 221 

Long did I wish 207 

Long while it was 210 

Long were they not ! ... 237 

Look, as a bird 200 

Look, as a man late 236 

Look, as the crazen 231 

LORD GOD Almighty 45 



P.\GE 

Love once dissembled ... 392 

Love plays the wanton 396 

Love to a mortal is 395 

Li/ST chose the torrid ... 518 

Many a merry meeting 12 

Melts not thy heart .. .. 235 

Mirror of Heauty ! 192 

Modest and humble 3S8 

Most like a lion raised... 401 

My cousin ZiiiA, of 550 

My good Daipha.ntus ! 395 

My heart and ears 413 

My Hero, with the 543 

My life's preserver I 201 

My Orisons are still 405 

My predecessor Jluas 550 

My woes — " There 411 

Nature had tried her ... 209 

Nature that made them 390 

Navies prepared to 609 

Ne'er did the dungeon 215 

Ne'er had the world a... 226 

Ne.xt bring some 612 

No man was ever yet ... 540 

Nor can this Right be... 540 

Nor do the poor alone... 530 

No riches now can raise 14 

Nor shall my Verse 534 

No sooner leaves 197 

Not distant far, within... 397 

Not far from Venice 388 

Now, all were silent 401 

Now he that laughed ... 391 

Now is he gone who 216 

Now kneels to Venus... 402 

Now to the humble 392 

Now were they come ... 212 

Now with his fingers ... 408 

O adamantic-minded ... 234 

O but ViTiu.i.iA. what? 407 

O cea.se, quoth She 236 

O cruel stars 229 

O eyes! no eyes 400 

O fair GvNEiKA ! 239 

Of joys and pleasing ... 331 

O fools ! can you not ... 327 

Oheavensl what 213 

(), I would wear her ... 403 

O Ladies fair 54 

O let him now the 234 

O let my pen relate 397 

O look, fair Love ! 228 

O my ViTi.1 i.iA I Let... 404 

O Nature! chiefest 223 

One month consumed ... 216 

On every neighbour tree 226 

One sort of whips 53 

O Noble Kngland 39 

O no, Daii'iiamls ! ... 404 

O shall 1 tell thee 234 

O sing a song, p.-irted ... 410 

O slack thy swift-paced 237 

O, spe.ik not of my pain 238 

O then, I'll lly '■ 4»o 



First Lines of Poems and Stanzas. 



Our pleasant country ... 
Our wealth and riches... 



Poets, long since 531 

Poor tortured lover ! 392 

Posterity will be 576 

Pkiue, the first Peer ... 518 

Repentant sorrow would 236 

Revived by this 396 

Rough storms have 202 

Sacred Pvmpi..«ii)ES ... 237 

Satyr, bekindl and 520 

Satyr, be silent ! 542 

Satyr, return to our 545 

Scarce were his horses... 215 

ScHoMBEKO, the ablest 546 

Search, Satyr I search ! 516 

She could have loved ... 399 

She gone, Uka.nia 394 

She is a rose, the fairer 406 

She is but a Lady ! 407 

She, like a frantic 219 

She, like the morning ... 400 

She, pitiless, sends 2^3 

She read and pitied 599 

She, when She heard ... 222 

She would not hear him 220 

Sisters these two are ... 390 

" So, here ! " quoth he... 225 

So long lived poi^r 229 

Some book-learned fools 575 

Some other times 225 

Some think, of Kngland 527 

Some think the Clergy... 531 

Some think thonseivts 320 

Sometimes, the air of ... 606 

Sometimes when as he... 225 

Soon as the azure 190 

Soon as the sun h.id left 210 

So when the cle.ir 232 

Speak, Satyr ! For 515 

Speechless thus stands 394 

Statesmen, their weighty 531 

Straight, like a 235 

Sucn hap it was 219 

Surly to strangers 532 

Sweet l.adyl know the 416 

Sweet I-ove ; behold ... 230 

Sweet l.nvK, if thou 331 

Sweet .\lemi>ry 1 .Soul's 386 

Swi.t-footcd lime 190 

Tell them, He stands ... 617 

Tell them. It was 616 

Tell ihem that. This 617 

'I'cll them. The m|en] ... 617 

Th.it so, the Oordian 225 

That wide-mouihed 229 

The birds came chirping 413 

The Breed's described... 529 

'I'he Bulwarks strong ... 47 

The chiefest Captain ... 42 

'J'he Civil Wars, the 524 

'I'he Country P<K)r do ... 530 

'I'he /■'nine 0/ I'irtiif 'tis 542 

The first Intent of Laws 615 



The gloomy curtains ... 213 

The good Queen 55 

The great invading 521 

The heaven's herald ... 203 

Their Governors, they... 535 

Their Liberty and 535 

The King commanded... 551 

The Labouring Poor 530 

The Ladies all, who late 411 

The Ladies jest ! 393 

The last so sweet 205 

The little .Archer 191 

'i'he Lord General of the 47 

The love-hurt heart 202 

The martyrs of the 613 

The meanest English ... 535 

The messenger to 233 

Then bring those 611 

Then came the Queen... 49 

Then casting up her 48 

Then clap thy wooden 610 

J'hen, liearest /.ore ! ... 240 

Then did our Navy 41 

Then 'gan Artesi.\ 412 

Then heavily, and with 216 

Then if Good Nature ... 533 

Then I, like a Spirit 410 

Then let us boast of 552 

Then lifts he up his eyes 393 

TJien seek >w phrase 543 

Then straddling goes ... 408 

Then to recruit the 525 

Then, when thou hast ... 233 

Then with his look 393 

The offspring of this 523 

The Pagan World 519 

The Rabbis say, it wuuld 537 

There sat a man of 612 

The rest, by Deputies... 519 

The Reverend Clergy ... 536 

The Reverend I'athers... 537 

There would the famed 607 

'J'he Romans first 521 

Thv.se are the heroes 522 

Tl.ijse do not harm 397 

These Dryades 212 

Thesedumbambassadors 212 

These holy men 52 

These lovers, thus in 215 

The Sergeant 'I'rumpet 49 

These two, two sisters... 390 

These, whilst they lived 240 

The strongest pine 199 

The sun-scorched 198 

The valiant Captains ... 50 

The valiant Greeks 214 

The Vigo men should ... 609 

The warlike army $0 

The western Angles 526 

The wonder which 526 

They gone, Dai i'H.\.\Tis 402 

They hold this but his.. 393 

They look upon 412 

They say " they seek ... 52 

They that, in vast 614 

They who let Poi.vri .. 608 

Thinking, indeed, She... 224 

Thinking to close 206 



rAGE 

This Doctrine has the... 540 

This done, the soldiers 51 

This great f^rt//«'acso ... 41 

This grieved him much 416 

This Lady was no 398 

This lovesome youth ... 209 

This mighty vessel 42 

This said, he paused ... 400 

This was a sight, whose 413 

This young-yeared 229 

Those Nimshites, who ... 6n 

"'J'hou art but young : " 332 

Thou art no Shame 606 

"I'hou Bugbear of the ... 6i6 

Thou ever-memorable ... 227 

Thou hast the fairest ... 22S 

'i'hou, like the Devil ... 616 

Thou (like the fair-faced 195 

"i'hou, musical Apollo 226 

Thou Speaking 614 

Thus all things in their 550 

Thus lingland cried 541 

Thus from a mixture ... 525 

1'hus, in these speeches 228 

Thus is the good 392 

'I'hus lay Diego 214 

Thus lay they, sleepless 214 

'I'hus Love commands 329 

Thus made by Nature... 387 

Thus my first benefactor 549 

Thus of themselves 238 

Thus ravished, then 402 

Thus saith my Clokis... 328 

Thus spake 395 

Thus they adjured him 412 

'I'hus thinks he, of the... 391 

Thus through the Camp 48 

Thus to the first i and 2 415 

Thus 'twas, Diego 218 

'Tis strange, that Maids 220 

Tis well that Virtue 527 

"i'isworth observing 545 

I'o dote on him 218 

To maidens' vows and... 14 

Too long it were, to 2;5 

To this black place 235 

To 2 Wit and i Beauty 415 

'T was hard ! that he 2-.?o 

'Twas I, that paid 14 

'Twas quickly read 222 

'Twas time to end I 222 

'Twere infinite, to tell ... 238 

I'wo days he st.-iyed 217 

Two days were spent in 225 

Ungovemed Passion ... 519 

Unkind I f ) stay thy ... 330 

Upon his knees, () 410 

Upon the left side of ... 3S9 

Upon thy Penitential ... 609 

I'pon thy Pulpit, set ... 611 

Ukama next. O that... 389 

Urania now bethought 416 

Vice, like ill-nature 552 

' Virgin's pure chastene.ss 404 

, ViTi'i.i.iA fair, y» t 401 

I Vn Li.LlA is the run 406 



I o First Lines of Poems and S t a n z a s. 



NWaiy witli strviiiK aoj 

W'c bl.'iiiie tl\u K|inj;l ... 546 

Weep, O mine eyes 327 

M'e virgins know tliis ... 396 

What are thy terrors ':• ... 616 

A\'li:it needeth all this ... 327 

\\'hat necil of Satyr 615 

^\'llat printed books 56 

M'liat .She can be so 194 

^\'hat suK.'ired terms 191 

^Vhen all these heroes ... 613 

Vlien broad-face<l 196 

Vhcncver then thou ... 615 

Vhen first the feathered 189 

When Ki. OKA vaunts her 194 

When Kings, the sword 538 

When leaden-hearted ... 201 

When I.ovK had first ... 192 

When Night returns ... 199 

When shall my 331 

AN'heii she as far as 47 

When sighs, salt tears... 220 

When some stone would 226 



iwr.K 

Whereat inflamed 215 

Whereat, the very stone 227 

Where beingconie 224 

Where being come 221 

Where being come . 217 

Where she was feasted 51 

Where seek we Virtue... 397 

Wherever CIOI) erects... 517 

Wherewith, he calls 221 

Wherewith she invocates 219 

Which ilone, as all good 216 

Which medley cantoned 526 

Who c.'ills me forth 409 

Who first seeks mercy... 396 

Who gains by travel 417 

Who shall this 516 

Whose was the tongue... 405 

Who studies Arts alike 417 

Why dost thou shoot ... 332 

Why have not these 608 

Why shouKl a Maiden's 206 

Why was I made 395 

Wii.i.iA.M, the great 536 



W 
W 

w 
w 
w 
w 
w 
w 
w 
w 
w 
w 
w 
w 
w 
i w 



I' 

ilh clouted iron shoes 

ith cour.-ige good 

ith heart 

ith hey and ho! 

ithin the year of 

ith maces of clean 

ith that, desire 

ith that, I)lK(-.o 

ith that, he sees .T rock 
ilh this, he seeks a ... 

ilh thi-i incensed 

ilh tliein, let all 

iiineri than .Men are ... 
onder not, mortals ... 

bid back again 

ronged DiKoo 



AGE 

548 
31 
31 
23 
46 
49 

211 
233 
224 
227 
218 
608 

397 
401 
213 
219 



}'e Heavens, regani l... 512 

Ve Heavens, regard ! ... 541 

Ye restless thoughts 327 

Yes, tell the Karlh 409 

Yet needs I must 227 

Yet, noble Sir 1 I came y)>^ 





Vol. VII. 



? 



/ loved a lass^ a fair one I 




\A Dtscii/>tio>i of Love. 1629.) 

Loved a lass, a fair one ! 
As fair as e'er was seen : 
She was, indeed, a rare one, 
Another Sheba's Queen ! 
But (fool as then I was) 
I thought She loved me too ! 
But now, alas, She has left me. 
Falero ! Icro ! loo ! 



12 I L O V F. D A I. A S S , A F A I R O N E ! [ j •,g,g_ 

Ker hair, like ^old, did i;iister. 
Each e}e was like a star. 
She did surpass her sister, 
Which passed all others, far ! 
She would me " Honey ! " call : 
She'd, O She'd kiss me, too ! 
But now, alas, She has left me. 
Falcro ! I era ! loo ! 



In summer time, to Medley 
My Love and I would ^o ; 
The boatmen there, stood ready 
My Love and I to row. 
For cream, there, would we call ! 
For cakes ! and for prunes too ! 
But now, alas, She has left me. 
Falcro I leva ! loo ! 



Many a merry meeting 
My Love and I have had. 
She was " my only Sweeting ! " 
She made my heart full glad. 
The tears stood in her eyes 
Like to the morning dew; 
But now, alas, She has left mc. 
Fa Icro ! Icro ! loo ! 

And as ahroad we walked 
(As lovers' fashion is). 
Oft we sweetly talked ! 
The sun sh(Hild steal a kiss I 
The wind, upon her lips, 
Likewise, most sweetly blew ! 
But now, alas, She has left me. 
Fulcra ! lero ! loo ! 



J -,6,6 ] I LOVED A LASS, A FAIR O N E ! I , 

Her cheeks were like the cherry ; 
Her skin, as white as snow : 
When She was blithe and merr}-, 
She angel-like did shew. 
Her waist exceeding small. 
The " fives " did fit her shoe. 
But now, alas, She has left me. 
Falcro ! Icro ! loo ! 



In summer time, or winter ; 
She had her heart's desire ! 
I still did scorn to stint her 
From sugar, sack, or fire ! 
The world went round about ; 
No cares we ever knew ! 
But now, alas, She has left me. 
Falero ! Icro ! loo ! 

As we walked home together. 
At midnight, through the town ; 
To keep away the weather, 
O'er her, I'd cast my gown ! 
No cold, my Love should feel, 
Whate'er the heavens could do ! 
But now, alas, She has left me. 
Falero ! lero ! loo I 

Like doves, we would be billing! 
And clip and kiss so fast ! 
Yet She would be unwilling 
That I should kiss the last. 
They're Judas kisses now! 
Since that they proved untrue. 
For now, alas, She has left me. 
Falero ! lero ! loo ! 



14 I LOVED A LASS, A FAIR O N E ! [ j '.g^g 

To maidens' vows and swearing ; 
Henceforth, no credit j;ive ! 
You may give them the hearing ; 
But never them beheve ! 
They are as False as Fair ! 
Unconstant ! Frail ! Untrue ! 
For mine, alas, has left me. 
Falcro ! Icro ! loo ! 



'Tvvas I, that paid for all things ! 
'Twas others drank the wine ! 
I cannot, now, recall things; 
Live but a fool, to pine ! 
'Twas I that beat the bush ; 
The bird, to others flew ! 
For She, alas, hath left me. 
Falero ! lero ! loo ! 

If ever that Dame Nature 
(For this false lover's sake), 
Another pleasing creature 
Like unto her, would make ; 
Let her remember this, 
To make the other ivuc ! 
For this, alas, hath left mc. 
Falcro ! Icro ! loo ! 

No riches now can raise me, 
No want makes me despair, 
No misery amaze me, 
Nor yet for w-ant, I care : 
I have lost a World itself ! 
My earthly heaven, adieu ! 
Since She, alas, hath left me. 
Falcro ! Icro ! loo ! 



Kemp's nine days' wonder. 

Performed in a dance from 

London to Norwich. 

Containing the Pleasure^ Pains ^ and kind Entertainment 

of William Kemp, between London and that city, 

in his late Morrice. 

Wherein is somewhat set down worth note, to re- 
prove the slanders spread of him ; many things merry, 
nothing hurtful. 

PVritten by himself^ to satisfy his friends. 




LONDON: 

Printed by E. A, for Nicholas Ling, and are to be 

sold at his shop, at the West Door of Saint 

Paul's Church. 1600. 





To the true ennobled Lady, and his most 

bountiful Mistress, Mistress Anne 

F I T T o N, Maid of Honour to 

the most sacred Maid Royal, 

Queen Elizabeth. 

Honourable Mistress, 

N THE wane of my little wit, I am forced to desire 
your protection ; else every ballad singer will 
proclaim me bankrupt of honesty ! A sort of mad 

^_ fellows, seeing me merrily disposed in a Morrice, 

have so bepainted me in print, since my gambols began from 
London to Norwich, that (having but an ill face before) I shall 
appear to the world without a face, if your fair hand wipe 
not away their foul colours. 

One hath written Kemp's farewell, to the tune of Kcry, 
inery, buffe ; another, his desperate dangers in his late travail ; 
the third, his entertainment to Newmarket, which town I came 
never near, by the length of half the heath. Some swear in 
a trenchmore, I have trod a good way to win the world ; others 
that guess righter, affirm, " I have without good help, danced 
myself out of the world ! " Many say many things that were 
never thought. . 

But, in a word, your poor Servant offers the trutli of his 
Progress and prolit, to your honourable view 1 receive it, I 
beseech you ! such as it is, rude and plain : for I know your 

£ng. gar. VII. 2 



i8 The Epistle Dedicatory. [ap^S: 

pure judgement looks as soon to see beauty in a blackamoor, 
or hear smooth speech from a stammerer, as to find anything 
but blunt mirth in a Alorrice dancer ! especially such a one 
as Will. Kemp, that hath spent his life in mad jigs and 
merry jests. 

Three reasons move me to make public this journey. One, 
to reprove lying fools I never knew. The other, to commend 
loving friends, which, by the way, I daily found. The third, 
to show my duty to your honourable self. Whose favours, 
among other bountiful friends, make me, despite of this sad 
world, judge my heart Cork, and my heels Feathers: so that, 
methinks, I could fly to Rome (at least, hop to Rome, as the 
old proverb is) with a mortar on my head. 

In which light conceit, I lowly beg pardon and leave : for 
my tabourer strikes his Hnnfs up ! I must to Norwich ! 

Imagine, noble Mistress ! I am now setting from my Lord 
Mayor's ! the hour, about seven 1 the morning, gloomy ! the 
company, many ! my heart, merry ! 

Your worthy Ladyship's 

Most unworthy servant, 

William K e m p. 




19 



Kemp's nine days* wonder. 

Performed in a Morrice from 
London to Norwich. 

Wherein every day's journey is pleasantly 
set down, to satisfy his friends [as to] 
the truth ; against all lying ballad, 
makers : what he did, how- 
he was welcome, and by 
whom entertained. 

The First Day's journey, being the first Monday 

in clean Lent ; from the Right Honourable 

the Lord Mayor's, of London. 

He first Monday in Lent [Feb. ii, 1600], 
the close morning promising a clear day ; 
attended on byTHOMAsSLYE, myTabourer; 
William Bee, my servant ; and George 
Sprat appointed for my Overseer, that I 
should take no other ease, but my pre- 
scribed order : mvself, that's I (otherwise 
^ called Cavalier Kemp, Head Master of 
Morrice dancers, High Headborough of heighs, and only 
tricker of your Trill-iilles, and best bell-shangles, s.on,-ar 
between Sion and Mount Surrey) began frolicly to ^^-^^ 
foot it, from the Right Honourable the Lord Nonv.ch. 
Mayor's, of London, towards the Right Worshipful and truly 
bountiful Master Mayor's at Norwich. 

My setting forward was somewhat before seven m the 
morning, my Tabourer struck up merrily, and as last as kmd 
people thronging together would give me leave, through 
London, I leapt I 




20 Through WiiiTECiiArEL and Stratford. [rprificT 

By the way, many good old people, and divers others of 
younger years, of mere kindness, give me bowed [bent] six- 
pences and groats ; blessing me with their hearty prayers 
and " God speeds ! " 

Being past Whitechapel, and having left fair London, 
with all that north-east suburb before named, multitudes of 
Londoners left not me ! but either to keep a custom that 
many hold, that " Mile End is no walk, without a recreation 
at Stratford [at] Bow, with cream and cakes," or else for love 
they bear towards me, or perhaps to make themselves merry 
if I should chance, as many thought, to give over my 
Morrice within a mile of Mile End. 

However, many a thousand brought me to Bow ; where I 
rested a while from dancing : but had small rest with those, 
that would have urged me to drinking. But, I warrant you ! 
Will. Kemp was wise enough ! To their full cups, " kind 
thanks ! " was my return ; with gentlemanlike protestations, 
as " Truly, Sir, I dare not ! It stands not with the congruity 
of my health ! " 

" Congruity," said I ! but how came that strange language 
in my mouth ? I think scarcely that it is any Christian 
word : and yet it may be a good word, for ought I know ; 
though I never made it, nor do very well understand it ! 
Yet I am sure, I have bought it at the wordmongers, at as 
dear a rate as I could have had a whole hundred of bavins 
[logs] from the wood mongers. 

Farewell " Congruity ! " for I mean now to be more con- 
cise, and stand upon evener bases ! but I must neither stand 
nor sit, the Tabourer strikes alarum. *' Tickle it, good Tom 1 
I'll follow thee ! Farewell Bow ! Have over the Bridge, 
where, I heard say, * Honest Conscience was once drowned.' 
It is pity if it were so ! but that is no matter belonging to 
our Morrice ; let us now along to Stratford Langton !" 

Many good fellows being there met, and knowing how well 
I loved the sport, had prepared a Bear baiting : but so 
unreasonable were the multitudes of people, that I could 
only hear the bear roar and the dogs howl. 
A sreat spoon Tliercforc forward I went, with my hey degaies [hey- 
h'ouung'^'above i^t-'givcs] to Ilford.wlicre I again rested; and was by 
a quart. the pcoplc of the town and country thereabouts, 

very well welcomed : being offered carouses in the great spoon, 



w. Kemp.-i jjjj^QUGH Romford to Burnt Wood. 21 

April 1600. J ■*■ 

one whole draught [of iti being able at that time to have 
drawn my little wit dry ; but being afraid of the old proverb, 
He had need of a long spoon that eats with the Devil, I soberly 
gave my boon companions the slip. 

From Ilford, by moonshine, I set forward, dancing within 
a quarter of a mile of Romford : where in the highway, two 
strong jades, having belike some quarrel to me unknown, 
were beating and biting of each other ; and such, through 
GOD's help, was my good hap that I escaped their hoofs, 
both being raised with their forefeet above my head, like two 
smiths over one anvil. 

There, being an end of my First Day's Morrice, a kmd 
gentleman of London [a]lighting from his horse, would have 
no " Nay ! " but I should leap into his saddle. To be plain 
with ye ! I was not proud ; but took kindly his kindlier offer, 
chiefly thereto urged by my weariness. So I rode to my inn 

at Romford. , ,• , 

In that town, to give rest to my well laboured hmbs, 1 
continued two days : being much beholden to the towns- 
men for their love ; but more to the Londoners, that came 
hourly thither in great numbers, to visit me, offering much 
more kindness than I was willing to accept. 

The Second Day's journey, being Thursday of the First week. 

HuRSDAY [Feb. 14, 1600], being market day at Burnt 
Wood, Tom Slye was earlier up than the lark, and 
sounded merrily the Morrice. I roused myself, and 
returned from Romford to the place where I took 
horse the first night ; dancing that quarter of a mile back 
again, through Romford, and so merrily to Burnt Wood. 

Yet now I remember it well, I had no great cause of 
mirth ! For at Romford town's end, I strained my hip ; and, 
for a time, endured exceeding pain: but being loth to 
trouble a surgeon, I held on, finding remedy by labour that 
had hurt me. For it came in a turn ; and so, in my dance, 
I turned it out of my service again. 

The multitudes were so great, at my coming to Burnt 
Wood, that I had much ado (though I made many entreaties 
and stays) to get passage to my inn. 




■ri Through Ingerstone to Chelmsford. K,u^S^: 

In this town, two cut-purses [pickpockets] were taken, 
that with other two of their companions followed me from 
London ; as many better disposed people did. But these 
two dy-doppers gave out, when they were apprehended, 
that " they had laid wagers, and betted about my journey." 

Whereupon the Officers bringing them to my inn, I justly 
denied their acquaintance ; saving that " I remembered one 
of them to be a noted cut-purse:" such a one as we tie to 
a post on our Stage, for all people to wonder at; when at 
a Play, they are taken pilfering. 

This fellow and his half-brother being found with the deed, 
were sent to gaol : their other two consorts had the charity 
of the town ! and, after a dance of Trenchmore at the whipping 
cross, they were sent back to London ; where, I am afraid, 
there are too many of their occupation. To be short, I 
thought myself well rid of four such followers ; and I wish 
heartily, that the whole world were clear of such companions ! 

Having rested well at Burnt Wood, the moon shining 
clearly and the weather being calm, in the evening, I tripped 
it to Ingerstone ; stealing away from those numbers of 
people that followed me : yet, do what I could, I had above 
fifty in the ctmipany, some of London, the others of the 
country thereabouts ; that would needs, when they heard my 
taber, trudge after me through thick and thin. 



The Third Day's journey, being Friday of the First week. 

[|N Friday morning [Feb. 15, 1600], I set forward 
towards Chelmsford, not having past two hundred ; 
being the least company that I had in the day time 
between London and that place. 
Onward I went, thus easily followed, till I came to Wit- 
ford Bridge : where a number of country [county] gentlemen 
and gentlewomen were gathered together to see me. Sir 
Thomas Mildmay standing at his park pale [palings], received 
gently a pair of garters of me : gloves, points, and garters 
being my ordinary merchandise, that I put to venture for 
performance of my merry vu}age. 

So much ado I had to pass by the people at Chelmsford, 
that it was more than an hour ere I could recover my inn 




ApriuZ:] The state of Elizabethan highways. 23 

gate ; where I was fain to lock myself in my chamber, and 
pacify them with words out of a window instead of deeds. 
To deal plainly, I was so weary that I could dance no more. 

The next morning, I footed it three miles of my way 
towards Braintree : but returned back again to Chelmsford ; 
where I lay that Saturday and the next Sunday. 

The good cheer and kind welcome I had at Chelmsford 
was much more than I was willing to entertain : for my only 
desire was to refrain from drink, and [to] be temperate in my 
diet. 

At Chelmsford, a maid not passing fourteen years of age, 
dwelling with one Sudley my kind friend, made request to 
her Master and Dame, that she might dance the Morrice with 
me, in a great large room. They being intreated, I was 
soon won to fit her with bells ; besides [which], she would 
have the old fashion, with napkin on [each of] her arms: and 
to our jumps, we fell ! 

A whole hour, she held out ! but then, being ready to lie 
down, I left her off: but thus much in her praise, I would 
have challenged the strongest man in Chelmsford ; and 
amongst many, I think few would have done so much. 



The Fourth Day's journey, being Monday of the Second week. 




jjN Monday morning [Feb. 18], very early, I rode the 
three miles I danced the Saturday before; where, 
alighting, my Tabourer struck up, and lightly I 
tripped forward : but I had the heaviest way [road] 
that ever mad Morrice dancer trod : yet 

With hey and ho ! through thick and thin ; 

The hobby horse quite forgotten, 
I followed as I did begin ! 

Although the way were rotten. 

This foul way I could find no ease in, thick woods being on 
either side the lane ; the lane likewise being full of deep holes, 
sometimes I skipped up to the waist ! But it is an old 
proverb, that it is a little comfort to the miserable, to have com- 
panions : and amidst this miry way, I had some mirth, by an 
unlocked for accident. 



24 T II R O U G n B R A I N T R E E TO S U D B U R Y. [ApnffeT. 

It was the custom of honest country fellows, my unknown 
friends, upon hearing of my pipe (which might well be heard, 
in a still morning or evening, a mile), to get up and bear me 
company a little way. 

In this foul way, two pretty plain youths watched me ; and 
with their kindness somewhat hindered me. One, a fine 
light fellow, would be still before me ; the other, ever at my 
heels ! 

At length, coming to a broad plash of water and mud, 
which could not be avoided ; I fetched a rise, yet fell in over 
the ankles at the further end. My youth that followed me, 
took his jump, and stuck fast in the midst, crying out to his 
companion, " Come, George ! call ye this dancing! I'll go 
no further!" for, indeed, he could go no further, till his 
fellow was fain to wade and help him out. I could not 
choose but laugh, to see how, like two frogs, they laboured ! 

A hearty farewell, I gave them ! And they faintly bade 
" God speed me ! " saying if I danced that dirty way, this 
seven years' again, they would never dance after me ! 

Well, with much ado, I got unto Braintree, by noon, and 
tarried tliere Monday night and the next day ; only I danced 
three miles on Tuesday, to ease my Wednesday's journey. 

If I should deny that I was welcome at Braintree, I should 
slander an honest crew of kind men ; among whom, I fared 
well, slept well, and was every way well used. 



The Fifth Day's journey, being Wednesday of the Second week. 

IAking advantage of my three miles that I had danced 
the day before ; this Wednesday morning [Feb. 20j, I 
Ij tripped it to Sudbury; whither came to see me, a 
^ very kind Gentleman, Master Foskevv, that had, be- 
fore, travelled afoot from London to Berwick : who, giving me 
good counsel to obsei-ve temperate diet for my health, and 
other advice to be careful of my company, besides his liberal 
entertainment, departed ; leaving me much indebted to his 
love. 

In this town of Sudbury, there came a lusty tall fellow, a 
butcher by his profession, that would, in a Morrice, keep me 
company to Bury. I being glad of his friendly offer, gave 




TpriuTl] Poem ox Kemp's Ma id Ma r ia .v. 25 

him thanks : and forward we did set ! But ere ever we had 
measured half a mile of our way, he gave me over in the plain 
field: protesting that "if he might get a hundred pounds, 
he would not hold out with me !" For, indeed, my pace in 
dancing is not ordinary. 

As he and I were parting, a lusty countr}' lass being among 
the people, called him " Faint-hearted lout !" saying, " If I 
had begun to dance, I would have held out one mile, though 
it had cost my life !" 

At which words, many laughed. 

" Nay," saith she, " if the Dancer will lend me a leash of 
his bells, FU venture to tread one mile with him, myself!" 

I looked upon her, saw mirth in her eyes, heard boldness 
in her words, and beheld her ready to tuck up her russet 
petticoat. I fitted her with bells, which she, merrily taking, 
garnished her thick short legs : and with a smooth brow, 
bade the Tabourer begin. 

The drum struck, forward march I, with my merrj^ Maid 
Marian : who shook her fat sides, and footed it merrily to 
Melford; being a long mile. 

There parting with her, I gave her, besides her skin full 
of drink, an English crown to buy more drink : for, good 
wench ! she was in a piteous heat ! 

My kindness she requited with dropping some dozen 
of short courtsies \cuvtsies\^ and bidding " GOD bless the 
Dancer !" 

I bad her "Adieu!" and to give her her due, she had a 
good ear, danced truly : and we parted friendly. 

But ere I part with her, a good fellow, my friend, having 
\^x\i an odd rhyme of her, I will set it down. 

A country lass (brown as a berr}^ 

Blithe of blee, in heart as merry; 

Cheeks well fed, and sides well larded ; 

Every bone, with fat flesh guarded) 

Meeting merry Kemp by chance. 

Was Marian in his Morrice dance. 

Her stump legs, with bells were garnished ; 

Her brown brows, with sweating varnished ; 

Her brown hips, when she was lag, 

To win her ground, went swig-a-swag: 



26 Through Clare to Bury St. Edmunds. [rpnuoT 

Which to see, all that came after 
Were replete with mirthful laughter. 
Yet she thumped it on her way 
With a sportly hey dc gay ! 
At a mile, her dance she ended ; 
Kindly paid, and well commended. 

At Melford, divers Gentlemen met me, who brought me to 
one Master Colts, a very kind and worshipful Gentleman : 
where I had unexpected entertainment till the Saturday, 

From whose house, having hope somewhat to amend my 
way to Bury, I determined to go by Clare : but I found it 
both further and fouler. 



The Sixth Day's journey, being Saturday of the Second week. 

Rom Wednesday night till Saturday, having been 
troublesome, but much more welcome to Master 
Colts; in the morning [Feb. 23], I took my leave, and 
was accompanied with many Gentlemen, a mile of my 
way. Which mile. Master Colts's Fool would needs dance 
with me, and had his desire; where leaving me, two fools 
parted fair in a foul way : I keeping on my course to Clare, 
where I a while rested ; and then cheerfully set forward to 
Bury [St. Edmunds]. 

Passing from Clare, towards Bury, I was invited to the 
house of a very bountiful widow, whose husband, during his 
life, was a yeoman of that country [coimty], dying rich, no 
doubt ! as might well appear by the riches and plenty that 
abounded in every corner of the house. She is called the 
Widow Everet. 

At her house were met above thirty Gentlemen. Such, 
and so plentiful variety of good fare, I have very seldom seen 
in any Commoner's house. Her behaviour being verv modest 
and friendly, argued her bringing up not to be rude. She 
was a woman of good presence ; and, if a Fool may judge ! of 
no small discretion. 

From this widow's, I danced to Bury ; coming in on 
the Saturday, in the afternoon : at what time, tlie Right 
Honourable ,Sir JoiIN PorilAM Kt.] the Lord Chief Justice 





ApnuZ] Through Thetford to Rockland. 27 

entered at another gate of the town. The wondering and 
regardless multitude making his Honour clear way, left the 
streets where he passed, to gape at me : the throng of them 
being so great, that poor Will. Kemp was seven times 
stayed, ere he could recover his inn. 

By reason of the great snow that then fell, I stayed at 
Bury from Saturday in the Second week of my setting forth, 
till Thursday night, the next week following. 



Tlie Seventh Day^s journey, being Friday of the Third week. 

PoN Friday morning [Feb. 29] I set on towards Thet- 
ford, dancing that ten miles in three hours : for I left 
Bury somewhat after seven in the morning, and 
was at Thetford somewhat after ten that same 
forenoon. 

But, indeed, considering how I had been booted [his 
biLskins covered ivith mire] before, and that all this way, or 
the most of it, was overa heath; it was no great wonder. For 
I fared like one that had escaped the stocks, and tried the 
use of his legs to outrun the Constable ; so light were my 
heels, that I counted the ten miles no better than a leap. 

At my entrance into Thetford, the people came in great 
numbers to see me: for there were many there, it being 
[As] size time. 

The noble Gentleman, Sir Edwin Rich, gave me enter- 
tainment in such bountiful and liberal sort during my con- 
tinuance there Saturday and Sunday, that I want fit words 
to express the least part of his worthy usage of my unworthi- 
ness: and to conclude liberally, as he had begun and con- 
tinued ; at my departure on Monday, his Worship gave me 
five pounds [ = £2^ now]. 

The Eighth Day's journey, being Monday of the Fourth week. 

N Monday morning [March 3] I danced to Rockland 

ere I rested ; and coming to my inn, where the host 

was a very boon companion, I desired to see him : 

but in no case, he would be spoken with, till he 

had shifted himself from his working days' suit. 




28 Poem on the mad Host of Rockland. [^pHuZ; 

Being armed at all points, from the cap to the foot, his black 
shoes shining and made straight with copper buckles of the 
best, his garters in the fashion, and every garment fitting 
correnisquandain, to use his own word ; he enters the hall, 
with his bonnet in his hand, and began to cry out, " O 
Kemp! dear Master Kemp! You are even as welcome as, 
as, as," and so stammering he began to study for a fit 
comparison (and I thank him, at last he fitted me !) for, 
saith he, " thou art even as welcome as the Queen's best 
greyhound ! " 

After this dogged yet well-meaning salutation, the carouses 
were called in ; and my friendly host of Rockland began with, 
" All this ! " blessing the hour upon his knees, that " any of 
the Queen's Majesty's well-willers or friends would vouchsafe 
to come within his house ! " as if never any such had been 
within his doors before. 

I took his good meaning, and gave him great thanks for 
his kindness. 

And having rested me well, I began to take my course for 
Hingham, whither m}' honest host of Rockland would needs 
bj my guide : but, good true fat-belly ! he had not followed 
me two fields, but he lay along and cried after me, to come 
back and speak with him. 

I fulfilled his request, and coming to him, *' Dancer !" 
quoth he, " if thou dance, a God's name! GOD speed thee! 
I cannot follow thee a foot further ! but adieu, good Dancer! 
GOD speed thee, if thou dance a God's name ! " 

I having haste of my way, and he being able to keep no 
way, we parted. Farewell, he 1 He was a kind good fellow, 
a true Tro3'an ! and [if] it ever be my luck to meet him at 
more leisure, I'll make him full amends with a cupful of 
Canary. 

But now I am a little better advised, we must not thus let 
mv mad host pass ! For mj' friend, late mentioned before, 
that made the odd rhyme on my Maid Marian, would needs 
remember my Host ! Such as it is, Fll bluntly set down ! 

He was a man not over spare. 

In his eyeballs dwelt no care : 

"Anon, anon ! " and "Welcome, friend ! " 

Were the most words he used to spend. 



w. Kemp.-i Pp^om Rockland to Hixciiam. 29 

April 1600.J 

Save, sometimes, he would sit and tell 

What wonders once in Boulogne fell 1 

Closing each period of his tale, 

With a full cup of nutbrown ale. 

Tourwin and Tournay's sieges were hot, 

Yet all my host remembers not. 

Rett's Field and Musselborough fray 

Were battles fought but yesterday. 

" O 'twas a goodly matter then 

To see your sword and buckler men ! 

There would lie here 1 and here ! and there 1 

But I would meet them everywhere. 

And now a man is but a prick. _ 

A boy armed with a poating stick 

Will dare to challenge Cutting Dick. 

O 'tis a world ! the world to see ; 

But 'twill not mend for thee or me! " 

By this, some guest cries, "Ho! the house! " 

A fresh friend hath a fresh carouse ! 

Still he will drink, and still be dry : 

And quaff with every company. 

Saint Martin send him merry mates 

To enter at his hostree [hostelry] gates 1 

For a blither lad than he 

Cannot an Innkeeper be. 

Well, once again, farewell, my host at Rockland ! 

After all these farewells, I am sure, to Hingham I found a 
foul way; as before I had done from Thetford to Rockland. 

Yet, besides the deep way, I was much hindered by the 
desire people had to see me. 

For even as our shopkeepers will haul, and pull a man, 
with, " Lack ye ! What do you lack, Gentlemen ? " " My 
ware is best ! " cries one. " Mine [the] best in England ! " 
says another. " Here, you shall have choice ! " saith the 
third: so were the divers voices of the young men and 
maidens which I should meet at every mile's end; throngmg 
by twenty, and sometimes forty, yea, hundreds in a company. 
One cried "the fairest way was through their village! 
another, "This is the nearest and fairest way, when you have 
passed but a mile and a half ! " another sort cry, " 1 urn on 



( 5 



30 Bv B A R F O R D B R T D G E T O N O R W I C 11. [rpriU^cT 

the left hand ! " some " on the right hand ! " that I was so 
amazed, I knew not sometimes which way I might hest take 
but haphazard, the people still accompanying me, whereat I 
was much comforted, though the ways were bad. But, as I 
said before, at last I overtook it. 

* The Ninth Day^s journey , being Wednesday of the Fourth week. 

He next morning [March 5] I left Hingham, not stay- 
ing till I came to Barford Bridge, five young men 
running all the way with me ; for otherwise my 
pace was not for footmen. 
From Barford Bridge, I danced to Norwich [eight miles]. 
But coming within sight of the city, perceiving so great a 
multitude and throng of people still crowding more and more 
about me : mistrusting it would be a let [hindrance] to my 
determined expedition and pleasurable humour, which I, long 
before, conceived, to delight this city with (so far as my best 
skill and industry of my long travelled sinews could afford 
them) ; I was advised, and so took ease by that advice, to 
stay my Morrice a little above St. Giles his Gate; where I took 
my gelding, and so rode into the city, procrastinating my 
merry Morrice dance through the city till better opportunity. 
Being come within the city. Master Roger Weild the 
Mayor, and sundry others of his worshipful Brethren, sent 
for me. Who perceiving how I intended not to dance into 
the city that night, and being well satisfied with the reasons; 
they allotted me time enough not to dance until Saturday 
after: to the end, that divers Knights and Gentlemen, together 
with their wives and children, who had been man}- days 
before deceived with expectation of my coming, might now, 
have sufficient warning accordingly, by Saturday following. 

In the mean space, and during my still continuance in the 
city afterwards, they not only very courteously offered to 
bear mine own charges and my followers ; but very bounti- 
fully performed it at the common charges. The Mayor and 
many of the Aldermen, oftentimes besides, invited us privately 
to their several houses. 

To make a short end of this tedious description of my 
entertainment. 



Airiff^."] T. Gilbert's acrostic Welcome to Kemp. 31 

Saturday [i\/a;rA 8] no sooner came, but I returned without 
the city, through St. Giles his Gate ; and began my Morrice 
where I left, at that Gate. But I entered in at St. Stephen's 
Gate, where one Thomas Gilbert, in name of all the rest of 
the city, gave me a friendly and exceeding kind welcome : which 
I have no reason to omit, unless I would condemn myself of 
ingratitude ; partly for the private affection of the writer 
towards me, as also for the general love and favour I found 
in them, from the highest to the lowest, the richest as the 
poorest. 

It follows in these few lines. 

Master K E M P his n'elcome to Norivich. 

W With heart and hand, among the rest, 

E Especially you welcome are ! 

L Long looked for, as welcome guest : 

C Come, now at last ! you be from far. 

Of most within the city, sure, 

M Many good wishes you have had ! 
E Each one did pray, you might endure 

W With courage good, the match you made ! 

1 Intend they did, with gladsome hearts, 
L Like your well-willers, you to meet 1 

K Know you also, they'll do their parts, 
E Either in field or house, to greet 
M More you, than any with you came, 
P Procured thereto, with trump and fame. 

Your well-wilier, 

T. G. 

Passing the gate, there were Whifflers, such Officers as 
were appointed by the Mayor, to make me way through the 
throng of the people which pressed so mightily upon me. 
With great labour, I got through that narrow press, into the 
open Market Place. 

Where, on the Cross, ready prepared, stood the City Waits, 
which not a little refreshed my weariness, with toiling through 
so narrow a lane as the people left me. Such Waits (under 



32 Kemp's great leap over churchyard WALL.[ApriU6T' 

Benedicite be it spoken) few cities in our realm have the like, 
none better ! Who, besides their excellency in wind instru- 
ments, and their rare cunning on the viol and violin : their 
voices are admirable ! every one of them able to serve in any 
Cathedral church in Christendom for choristers. 

Passing by the Market Place, the press still increasing by 
the number of boys, girls, men, and women, thronging more 
and more before me, to see the end ; it was the mischance 
of a homely maid (that, belike, was but newly crept into the 
fashion of long-waisted petticoats tied with points [laces or 
tags] ; and had, as it seemed, but one point tied before) that 
coming unluckily in my wa}', as I was fetching a leap, it fell 
out, that I set my foot on her skirts. The point either 
breaking or stretching, off fell her petticoat from her waist ! 
but, as chance was, though her smock was coarse, it was 
cleanly. 

Yet the poor wench was so ashamed, the rather for that 
she could hardly recover her [petti]coat again from unruly 
boys; that looking before like one that had the green sick- 
ness, now had she her cheeks all coloured with scarlet. 

I was sorry for her, but on I went towards the Mayor's : 
and deceived the people, by leaping over the Churchyard 
wall at St. John's ; getting so into Master Mayor's gates a 
nearer way. 

But, at last, I found it the further way about: being forced, 
on the Tuesday following .March 1 1 j , to renew my former dance ; 
because George Sprat, my Overseer, having lost me in the 
throng, would not be deposed that I had danced it, since he 
saw me not. And I must confess, I did not well : for the 
citizens had caused all the turnpikes to be taken up on Satur- 
day, that I might not be hindered. 

But now I return again to my jump, the measure of which 
is to be seen in the Guildhall at Norwich ; where my buskins, 
that I then wore and danced in from London thither, stand, 
equally divided, nailed on the wall. 

The plenty of good cheer at the Mayor's, his bounty and 
kind usage ; together with the general welcomes of his 
worshipful Brethren and many others, Knights, Ladies, Gentle- 
men, and Gentlewomen, so much exceeded my expectation, 
as I adjudged m}self most bound to them all. 

The Mayor gave mc five pounds in Elizabeth Angels; 



W. Kemp.-I Jjj^ KINDNESS OF THE MaVOR OF NoRWICII. 33 

April 1 600. J ^ 

which Mayor, (fair Madame ! to luhom I too presumptuously 
dedicate my idle paces !) as a man worthy of singular and 
impartial admiration, if our critic humourous minds could as 
prodigally conceive as he desires, for his chaste life, liberality, 
and temperance in possessing worldly benefits. He lives 
unmarried and childless: and never purchased house nor 
land; the house he dwells in, this year, being but hired. He 
lives upon merchandise ; being a Merchant Venturer. 

If our Merchants and Gentlemen would take example 
by this man. Gentlemen would not sell their lands, to 
become bankrupt Merchants; nor Merchants live in the 
possessions of youth-beguiled Gentlemen; who cast them- 
selves out of their parents' heritages for a few outcast com- 
modities. But Wit ! whither wilt thou ? What hath Mor- 
rice-tripping Will, to do with that ? It keeps not time with 
his dance ! Therefore, room you ! moral precepts ! Give 
my legs leave to end my Morrice ! or that being ended, my 
hands leave to perfect this worthless poor tottered [ ? tattered] 
volume ! 

Pardon me, Madam ! that I am thus tedious ! I cannot 
choose but commend sacred liberality, which makes poor 
wretches partakers of all comfortable benefits ! 

Besides the love and favour already repeated, Master 
Weild, the Mayor, gave me 40s. [ = ;^io now] yearly, during 
my life, making'me a Freeman of the Merchant Venturers. 



This is the substance of all my journey. Therefore let no 
man believe (however before, by lying Ballets and rumours 
they have been abused) that either ways [roads] were laid 
open for me, or that I delivered gifts to Her Majesty. 

It is good being merry, my Masters ! but in a mean ! and 
all my mirths, mean though they be, have been and ever 
shall be employed to the delight of my royal Mistress ! 
whose sacred Name ought not to be remembered among 
such ribald rhymes as these late thin-breeched lying Ballet 
singers have proclaimed it. 



It resteth now, that, in a word, I shew what profit I have 
made by my Morrice. 

MNG. Gj-K. VII. 3 



I Kemp's threat to his defaulters, [aph^' 



em p. 
600. 



True it is, I put out some money to have threefold gain at 
my return [i.e., he accepted bcis uf Three to One tJiat he could not 
dance this Morris to Norwich}. Some that love me, regard my 
pains and respect their promise, [and] have sent home the 
treble worth. Some others, at the first sight, have paid me, 
if I came to seek them. Others I cannot see, nor will they 
be willingly found ! and these are the greater number. 

If they had all used me well ; or all, ill : I would have 
boldly set down the true sum of my small gain or loss ! but 
I will have patience some few days longer. 

At the end of which time, if any be behind, I will draw a 
Catalogue of all their names I ventured with. Those that 
have shewn themselves honest men ; I will set before them 
this character, H. for Honesty. Before the other bench- 
whistlers shall stand K. for Ketlers or Keistrels, that will 
drive a good companion, without need in them, to contend 
for his own. But I hope I shall have no such need ! 

If I have, your honourable protection shall thus far defend 
your poor servant, that he may, being a plain man, call a 
spade a spade. 



Thus, fearing your Ladyship is wearier with reading this 
toy than I was in all my merry travail ; I crave pardon ! and 
conclude this first pamphlet that ever Will. Kemp offered 
to the Press : being thereunto pressed on the one side by 
the pitiful papers pasted on every post, of that which was 
neither so, nor so ; and, on the other side, urged thereto in 
duty, to express with thankfulness the kind entertainment 
I found. 

Your Honour's poor servant, 

W. K. 







K E M P' s humble request to the impudent 
generation of Ballad-makers and their coherentSy 
that it would please their Rascalities to 
pity his pains in the great journey he pre- 
tends [intends] ; and not fill the country 
with lies of his never-done acts^ as 
they did in his late Morrice 
to Norwich. 

To the tune oi T H m a s Deloney's Epitaph. 

My notable Shak e-r a g s ! 

He effect of my suit is discovered in the 
title of my Supplication. 

But for your better understandings, for 
that I know you to be a sort of witless 
beetle-heads that can understand nothing 
but what is knocked into your scalps, 
These are, by these presents, to certify unto 
your Blockheadships, that I, William Kemp, whom you 
had near lyj hand-rent in sunder, with your unreasonable 
rhymes, and shortly, GOD willing! to set forward (as 
merrily as I may), whither, I myself know not ! 

Wherefore, by the way, I would wish ye ! employ not your 
little wits in certifying the world that I am gone to Rome, 
Jerusalem, Venice, or any other place at your idle appoint. 
I know, the best of ye, by the lies ye wrote of me, got not 
the price of a good hat to cover your brainless heads ! If 
any of ye had come to me, my bounty should have exceeded 
the best of your good masters, the ballad buyers ! I would 
have apparelled your dry pates in parti-coloured bonnets 1 




36 Death of Thomas D e l o n e y. [Apr.u^eT' 

and bestowed a leash of my cast^-off j bells to have crowned 
ye, with coxcombs ! 

I have made a privy search, what private Jigmonj^er of 
your jolly number hath been the Author of these abomin- 
able Ballets written of me. 

I was told, it was the great Ballad-maker, T. D., alias 
Thomas Deloxey, Chronicler of the memorable Lives of 
the Six yeomen of the West, Jack of Newbury, the Gentle Craft, 
&c., and such like honest men, omitted by Stow, Hollin- 
SHED, Grafton, Halle, Froissart, and all the rest of those 
well-deserving writers. 

But I was given since to understand, your late General, 
Thomas, died poorly (as ye all must do!), and was honestly 
buried, which is much to be doubted of some of )'ou ! [This 
fixes Deloney's death about March, 1600.] 

The Quest [inquest] of Inquiry finding him, by death 
acquitted of the Indictment ; I was let to wit, that another 
Lord of Little Wit, one whose employment for the Pageant 
was utterly spent, he being known to be Elderton's imme- 
diate heir, was vehemently suspected : but, after due inqui- 
sition was made, he was at that time known to live like 
a man in a mist, having quite given over the niN'stery. 

Still the Search continuing, I met a proper upright youth, 
only for a little stooping in the shoulder, all heart to the heel, 
a penny Poet; whose first making [ballad] was the miserable 
stolen story of MAcnoKL, or Macdobeth, or .V^c-somewhat: 
for I am sure a Mac it was, though I never had the maw to 
see it : and he told me there was a fat filthy Ballet- maker 
that should have once been his journeyman to the trade, who 
lived about the town; and, ten to one! but he had thus 
terribly abused me and my Tabourer, for that he was able to 
do such a thing in print. A shrewd presumption ! 

I found him about the Bankside, sitting at a play. I de- 
sired to speak with him, had him to a tavern, charged i;.^., 
for hi)n] a pipe with tobacco, and then laid this terrible 
accusation to his charge. He swells presently like one of 



W.Kemp.-] Kp^mp's hunt after the i;ali.ad-m.\ker. 2)7 

April looo.j * »• • 

the four winds. The violence of his breath blew the tobacco 
out of the pipe, and the heat of his wrath drank dry two 
bowls of Rhenish wine. 

At length having power to speak, "Name my accuser!" 
saith he, " or I defie thee, Kemp! at the quart[er] staff!" 

I told him! and all his anger turned to laughter; swearing 
" it did him good to have ill words of a hoddy doddy ! a 
habber de hoy! [1 hobbledehoy], a chicken! a squib! a 
squall ! One that hath not wit enough to make a ballet ; 
that by Pol and Aedipol would Pol his father, Derick 
his dad! do anything, how ill soever, to please his apish 
humour ! " 

I hardly believed this youth, that I took to be gracious, 
had been so graceless; but I heard, afterwards, his mother- 
in-law was eye-and ear-witness of his father's abuse, by this 
blessed child, on a public Stage, in "a merry Host of an 
Inn's" part. 

Yet all this while, could not I find out the true ballet 
maker; till, by chance, a friend of mine pulled out of his 
pocket, a book in Latin, called Miindns furiosus, printed at 
Cullen [Cologne], w-ritten by one of the vilest and arrantest 
lying cuUians [wretches] that ever wrote book; his name 
Jansonus: who, taking upon him to write an abstract of all 
the turbulent actions that had been lately attempted^ or 
performed in Christendom, like an unchristian wretch ! writes 

only by report, partially, and scoffingly of such whose page's 

shoes he was unworthy to wipe. For indeed he is now dead. 

Farewell, he ! every dog must have a day ! 

But see the luck on it ! This beggarly lying busybody's 

name brought out the Ballad-maker [? Richard Johnson] ! 

and it was generally confirmed it was his kinsman ! He 

confesses himself guilty, let any man look on his face ! if 
' there be not so red a colour that all the soap in the town will 

not wash white, let me be turned mto a whiting, as I pass 

between Dover and Calais ! 

Well, GOD forgive thee, honest fellow! 



^S Kemp is going on the Continent. [AJi.iueT' 

I see, thou hast grace in thee ! I prithee, do so no more ! 
Leave writing these beastly ballets ! make not good wenches, 
Prophetesses for little or no profit ! nor for a sixpenny mat- 
ter, revive not a poor fellow's fault that is hanged for his 
offence ! it may be thine own destiny, one day : prithee, be 
good to them ! 

Call up, thy old Melpomene ! whose strawberry quill may 

write the bloody lines of the blue Lady, and the Prince of the 

burning crown : a better subject I can tell ye! than your Knight 

of the Red Cross. So farewell ! and cross me no more, I 

prithee ! with thy rabble of bald rhymes, 

least at my return, I set a cross 

on thy forehead, that all 

men may know thee 

for a fool ! 

William Kemp. 
FINIS. 





T [h O M A s] D [e L O N E y] . 

Three Ballads o7i the Armada jlght. 

[Original broodsides, in British Museum. C. i8. e. 2'62-64.] 

A joyful nav Ballad declaring the happy obtaining of tJic great 
Galleazzo, ic-hcrein Don Pedro de Valdez icas the chief; 
through the mighty power and providence of GOD : being a 
special token of His gracious and fatherly goodness towards us ; 
to the great encouragement of all those that willingly fight in the 
defence of His Gospel and our good 
Queen of England. 

To the tune of Monsieur's Almain. 

[Entered at Stationers' Ilall, loth August, 1588 ; see Traiiscri^t, ii. 495. Ed. 1S75.] 

Noble England, 

fall down upon thy knee ! 
And praise thy GOD, with thankful heart, 

which still maintaineth thee ! 
The foreign forces 

that seek thy utter spoil. 
Shall then, through His especial grace, 

be brought to shameful foil. 
^^"ith mighty power, 

they come unto our coast ; 
To overrun our countr\- quite, 

they make their brags and boast. 




40 " Fight for LORD & our good Queen ! " {J^^'l^. 

In strength of men 

they set their only stay ; 
But we, upon the LORD our GOD 

will put our trust alway ! 

Great is their number 

of ships upon the sea ; 
And their provision wonderful : 

but, LORD, Thou art our stay ! 
Their armed soldiers 

are many by account ; 
Their aiders eke in this attempt 

do, sundry ways, surmount. 
The Pope of Rome, 

with many blessed grains, 
To sanctify their bad pretence, 

bestoweth both cost and pains, 
But little land 

is not dismayed at all ! 
The LORD, no doubt ! is on our side, 

which soon will work their fall. 

In happy hour, 

our foes we did descry ! 
And under sail, with gallant wind, 

as they came passing by. 
Which sudden tidings 

to Plymouth being brought ; 
Full soon our Lord High Admiral, 

for to pursue them sought. 
And to his train 

courageously he said, 
«* Now, for the LORD, and our good Queen, 

to tight be not afraid ! 
Regard our Cause ! 

and play ^our parts like men ! 



T.D[eIoneyl1 'J'jj^ MIGHTY GaLLIAS ASHORE AT CaI.AIS. 4 I 

xo Aujj. 1580. J 

The LORD, no doubt ! will prosper us 
in all our actions then." 

This great Gallcazzo 

which was so huge and high, 
That, like a bulwark on the sea 

did seem to each man's eye. 
There was it taken, 

unto our great relief, 
And divers nobles, in which train 

Don Pedro was the chief. 
Strong was she stuffed 

with cannons great and small, 
And other instruments of war, 

Which we obtained all. 
A certain sign 

of good success, we trust : 
That GOD will overthrow the rest, 

as he hath done the first. 

Then did our Navy 

pursue the rest amain, 
With roaring noise of cannons great, 

till they, near Calais came. 
With manly courage 

they followed them so fast ; 
Another mighty Galleon 

did seem to yield at last : 
And in distress 

for safeguard of their lives, 
A flag of truce, they did hand out, 

with many mournful cries. 
Which when our men 

did perfectly espy 
Some little barks they sent to her, 

to board her quietly. 



Death of Captain de IMoncaldo. [7o\?S°"5B8: 

But these false Spaniards 

esteeming them but weak, 
When they within their danger came, 

their malice forth did break : 
With charged cannons 

they laid about them then, 
For to destroy those proper barks 

and all their valiant men. 
Which when our men 

preceived so to be ; 
Like lions fierce, they forward went 

to 'quite this injury ; 
And boarding them 

with strong and mighty hand, 
They killed the men, until their Ark 

did sink in Calais sand. 

The chiefest Captain 

of this Galleon so high, 
Don Hugo de Moncaldo, he 

within this fight did die : 
Who was the General 

of all the Galleons great, 
But through his brains, with powder's force, 

a bullet strong did beat. 
And many more, 

by sword, did lose their breath, 
And many more within the sea 

did swim, and took their death. 
There might you see 

the salt and foaming flood, 
Died and stained like scarlet red 

with store of Spanish blood. 

This mighty vessel 

was threescore }ards in length, 



lo Aug, 



'"3§|.] Not a ship, of ours was lost! 4; 

Most wonderful, to each man's eye, 

for making and for strength. 
In her were placed 

a hundred cannons great, 
And mightily provided eke 

with bread-corn, wine, and meat. 
There were of oars 

two hundred, I ween. 
Threescore feet and twelve in length 

well measured to be seen ; 
And yet subdued, 

with many others more : 
And not a ship of ours lost ! 

the LORD be thanked therefore 1 

Our pleasant country, 

so beautiful and so fair, 
They do intend, by deadly war, 

to make both poor and bare. 
Our towns and cities, 

to rack and sack likewise, 
To kill and murder man and wife 

as malice doth arise ; 
And to deflour 

our virgins in our sight ; 
And in the cradle cruelly 

the tender babe to smite. 
GOD's Holy Truth, 

they mean for to cast down, 
And to deprive our noble Queen 

both of her life and crown. 

Our wealth and riches, 

which we enjoyed long; 
They do appoint their prey and spoil 

by cruelty and wrong. 



44 I N T !■: X I ) ED M E R C 1 1". S O I' T III' S P A X I A R D S. []] l^'^ 

To set our houses 

a fire on our heads ; 
And cursedly to cut our throats 

As we He in our beds. 
Our children's brains 

to dash against the ground, 
And from the earth our memory 

for ever to confound. 
To change our joy 

to grief and mourning sad, 
And never more to see the days 

of pleasure we have had. 

But GOD Almighty 

be blessed evermore ! 
Who doth encourage Englislimen 

to beat them from our shore, 
With roaring cannons 

their hasty steps to stay, 
And with the force of thundering shot, 

to make them fly away ; 
Who made account, 

before this time or day, 
Against the walls of fair London 

their banners to display. 
But their intent, 

the LORD will bring to nought, 
If faithfull}' we call and cry 

for succour as we ought. 

And yours, dear brethren ! 

which beareth arms this day, 
I'or safeguard of your native soil ;, 

mark well, what I shall say ! 
Regard your duties ! 

think on }"our country's good ! 



JoAug^l'isl'J "The Queen will be among vou!" 45 

And fear not in defence thereof, 

to spend your dearest blood ! 
Our gracious Queen 

doth greet you every one ! 
And saith, " She will among }ou be 

in every bitter storm ! 
Desiring 3'ou 

true English hearts to bear 
To GOD ! to her ! and to the land 

wherein you nursed were ! " 

LORD GOD Almighty! 

(which hath the hearts in hand, 
Of every person to dispose) 

defend this English land ! 
Bless Thou, our Sovereign 

with long and happy life ! 
Endue her Council with Thy grace ! 

and end this mortal strife ! 
Give to the rest 

of commons more and less, 
Loving hearts ! obedient minds ! 

and perfect faithfulness ! 
That they and we, 

and all, with one accord, 
On Sion hill, may sing the praise 

of our most mighty LORD. 

T. D. 

FINIS. 



Printed by J o h n Wolfe 
for Edward \V ii i t e 




46 The Queen's intent to see Tileurv Camp. [J^AngTsIl: 

The Queen's visiting of the Camp at Tilbury, with her 
entertaimncnt there. 

To the tune of Wilson's icild. 

[Entered at Stationers' Hall, loth August, 1588; see Transcript, ii, 495. Ed. 1875.] 

Ithin the \ear of Christ our Lord, 

a thousand and five hundred full, 
And eighty-eight hy just record, 

the which no man may disannul ; 
And in the thirtieth year remaining, 

of good Queen Elizabeth's reigning : 
A mighty power there was prepared 

By Philip, then the King of Spain, 
Against the Maiden Queen of England; 

Which in peace before did reign. 

Her royal ships, to sea she sent 

to guard the coast on every side ; 
And seeing how her foes were bent, 

her realm full well she did provide 
With many thousands so prepared 

as like was never erst declared ; 
Of horsemen and of footmen plenty, 

whose good hearts full well is seen, 
In the safeguard of their country 

and the service of our Queen. 

In Essex fair, that fertile soil 

upon the hill of Tilbury, 
To give our Spanish foes the foil 

in gallant camps they now do lie, 
Where good order is ordained, 

and true justice eke maintained 
For the punishment of persons 

that are lewd or badly bent. 
To see a sight so strange in h^^ngland, 

'Twas our gracious Queen's intent. 



7" wT't" The Oueen leaves Whitehall, 8th Aug. 47 

And on the eighth of August, she 

from fair St. James's, took her way, 
With many Lords of high degree, 

in princely robes and rich array; 
And to barge upon the water 

(being King Henry's royal daughter !) 
She did go, with trumpets sounding, 

and with dubbing drums apace, 
Along the Thames, that famous river, 

for to view the Camp a space. 

When she, as far as Gravesend came, 

right over against that pretty town, 
Her royal Grace with all her train 

was landed there with great renown. 
The Lords, and Captains of her forces, 

mounted on their gallant horses, 
Ready stood to entertain her, 

like martial nien of courage bold 
"Welcome to the Camp, dread Sovereign ! " 

Thus they said, both young and old. 

The Bulwarks strong, that stood thereby, 

well guarded with sufficient men, 
Their flags were spread courageously, 

their cannons were discharged then. 
Each gunner did declare his cunning 

for joy conceived of her coming. 
All the way her Grace was riding, 

on each side stood armed men, 
With muskets, pikes, and good calivers, 

for her Grace's safeguard then. 

The Lord General of the field 

had there his bloody Ancient borne. 

The Lord Marshal's colours eke 

were carried there, all rent and torn. 



4S Sim PLY passes tit rough the Camp. [^^Aug^l'ss' 

The which with bullets was so burned 
when in Flanders he sojourned. 

Thus in warlike wise they marched, 
even as soft as foot could fall ; 

Because her Grace was fully minded 
perfectly to view them all. 

Her faithful soldiers, great and small, 

as each one stood within his place, 
Upon their knees began to fall 

desiring GOD, to " save her Grace ! " 
For jo}' whereof, her eyes were filled 

that the water down distilled ; 
'* LORD bless you all, my friends ! " she said, 

" but do not kneel so much to me ! " 
Then sent she warning to the rest, 

they should not let such reverence be. 

Then casting up her Princely eyes 

unto the hill with perfect sight, 
The ground all covered, she espies, 

with feet of armed soldiers bright : 
Whereat her royal heart so leaped, 

on her feet uprigiit she stepped. 
Tossing up her plume of feathers 

to them all as they did stand, 
Cheerfully her body bending, 

waving of her royal hand. 

Thus through the Camp she passed quite, 

in manner as I have declared. 
At Master Rich's, for that night, 

her Grace's lodging was prepared. 
The morrow after her abiding, 

on a princely palfrey riding ; 
To the Camp, she came to dinner, 

with her Lords and Ladies all. 



T. p[eloneyl.] PrqCESSION AT THE ReVIEW on QTII AtlGUST. 49 

10 Aug. 1500.^ -^ 

The Lord General went to meet her, 
with his Guard of Yeomen tall. 

The Serjeant Trumpet, with his mace, 

And nine with trumpets after him, 
Bareheaded went before Her Grace 

in coats of scarlet trim. 
The King of Heralds, tall and comely, 

was the next in order duly, 
With the famous Arms of England 

wrought with rich embroidered gold 
On finest velvet, blue and crimson, 

that for silver can be sold. 

With maces of clean beaten gold, 

the Queen's two Sergeants then did ride. 
Most comely men for to behold, 

in velvet coats and chains beside. 
The Lord General then came riding, 

and Lord Marshal hard beside him. 
Richly were they both attired 

in princely garments of great price ; 
Bearing still their hats and feathers 

in their hands, in comely wise. 

Then came the Queen, on prancing steed, 

attired like an angel bright ; 
And eight brave footmen at her feet 

whose jerkins were most rich in sight. 
Her Ladies, likewise of great honour, 

most sumptuously did wait upon her. 
With pearls and diamonds brave adorned, 

and in costly cauls of gold : 
Her Guards, in scarlet, then rode after, 

with bows and arrows, stout and bold. 

E.\G. Gar. VII. 4 



50 TiIkOuEEX, AI.ONE, srEAKINGTO IIERS0LDIERS.[7o au^^^IU'. 

The valiant Captains of the field, 

mean space, themselves in order set ; 
And each of them, with spear and shield, 

to join in battle did not let. 
With such a warlike skill extended, 

as the same was much commended. 
Such a battle pitched in England 

many a day hath not been seen. 
Thus they stood in order waiting 

for the presence of our Queen. 

At length, her Grace most royally 

received was, and brought again. 
Where she might see most loyally 

this noble host and warlike train. 
How they came marching all together, 

like a wood in winter's weather. 
With the strokes of drummers sounding, 

and with trampling horses ; then 
The earth and air did sound like thunder 

to the ears of every man. 

The warlike army then stood still, 

and drummers left their dubbing sound ; 
Because it was our Prince's will 

to ride about the army round. 
Her Ladies, she did leave behind her, 

and her Guard, which still did mind her. 
The Lord General and Lord Marshal 

did conduct her to each place. 
The pikes, the colours, and the lances, 

at her approach, fell down apace ! 

And then bespake our noble Queen, 
" My loving friends and countrymen ! 

I hope this day the worst is seen, 
that in our wars, ye shall sustain ! 



^oS-Sl The migiitv suddex shout of the soldiers. 5 1 

But if our enemies do assail you, 

never let your stomachs fail you ! 
For in the midst of all your troops; 

we ourselves will be in place ! 
To be your joy, your guide and comfort ; 

even before your enemy's face ! " 

This done, the soldiers, all at once, 

a mighty shout or cry did give I 
Which forced from the azure skies 

an echo loud, from thence to drive ; 
Which filled her Grace with joy and pleasure : 

and riding then from them, by leisure. 
With trumpets' sound most loyally, 

along the Court of Guard she went : 
Who did conduct Her Majesty 

unto the Lord Chief General's tent. 

Where she was feasted royally 

with dainties of most costly prices 
And when that night approaching nigh, 

Her Majesty, with sage advice, 
In gracious manner, then returned 

from the Camp where she sojourned 
And when that she was safely sit 

within her barge, and passed away ; 
Her Farewell then, the trumpets sounded ; 

and the cannons fast did play ! 

T. D. 

FINIS. 

Imprinted at London by John W o l f 
for Edward \V ii i t e . i 5 S 8 . 



52 The rRorrr which comes from Spain. [J; Aig.''"3^'J: 




A nnv Ballet of the straii^i^c and most cruel ichip'^, ivliich tJia 
Spanianh liad prepared to ichip and torment En^i^lish men and 
li'omcn : wliich were found and taken at the overthrow of certain 
of the Spanish sliips, in July last past, 1588. 

To the tune of TJie valiant Soldier. 

[Entered at Stalioner.s" Hall, 31 August, 15SS ; sec Transcript, ii. 49S. Ed. 1875.] 



Ll 3-011 that list to look and see 

what profit comes from Spain, 
And what the Pope and Spaniards both 

prepared for our gain. 
Then turn your eyes and bend your ears, 

and you shall hear and see 
What courteous minds, what gentle hearts, 

they bear to thee and me ! 

They say " they seek for England's good, 

and wish the people well ! " 
They say " they are such holy men, 

all others they excel ! " 
They brag that " they are Catholics, 

and Christ's only Spouse ! 
And whatsoe'er they take in hand, 

the holy Pope allows ! " 

These holy men, these sacred saints, 

and these that think no ill : 
See how they sought, against all right, 

to murder, spoil, and kill ! 
Our noble Queen and countr}- first 

they did prepare to spoil. 
To ruinate our lives and lands 

with trouble and turmoil. 



T. D[eloneyl.l W ij j j. s T RI N G S W I T 11 W I RV KNOTS. 53 
31 Aug. 1588.J 

And not content, by fire and sword, 

to take our right away ; 
But to torment most cruelly, 

our bodies, night and day. 
Although they meant, with murdering hands, 

our guiltless blood to spill; 
Before our deaths, they did devise 

to whip us, first, their fill. 

And for that purpose had prepared 

of whips such wondrous store, 
So strangely made, that, sure, the like 

was never seen before. 
For never was there horse, nor mule, 

nor dog of currish kind. 
That ever had such whips devised 

by any savage mind ! 

One sort of whips, they had for men, 

so smarting, fierce, and fell. 
As like could never be devised 

by any devil in hell : 
The strings w^hereof with wiry knots, 

like rowels they did frame. 
That every stroke might tear the flesh, 

they laid on with the same. 

And pluck the spreading sinews from 

the hardened bloody bone, 
To prick and pierce each tender vein, 

within the body known ; 
And not to leave one crooked rib 

on any side unseen, 
Nor yet to leave a lump of flesh, 

the head and toot between. 



54 W 11 ITS WITH liRAZKN TAGS, FOR W O M E N . ['[; ^'IJ'i'g 

And for our silly women eke, 

their hearts with .c^rief to clo,!j^ ; 
They made such whips, wherewith no man 

would seem to strike ado;^. 
So strengthened eke with brazen tags 

and filed so rough and thin, 
That they would force at every lash, 

the blood abroad to spin. 

Although their bodies sweet and fair 

their spoil they meant to make, 
And on them first their filthy lust 

and pleasure for to take : 
Yet afterwards such sour sauce 

they should be sure to find, 
That they should curse each springing branch 

that cometh of their kind. 

O Ladies fair, what spite were this ! 

your gentle hearts to kill ! 
To see these devilish tyrants thus 

your children's blood to spill. 
What grief unto the husband dear! 

his loving wife to see 
Tormented so before his face 

with extreme villainy. 

And think 3-ou not, that they which had 

such dogged minds to make 
Such instruments of tyranny, 

had not like hearts to take 
The greatest vengeance that they might, 

upon us every one ? 
Yes. yes ! be sure ! for godly fear 

and mercy, have they none ! 



T. pieloneyL-jY j j j^ R Q M A N S W 1 1 1 T P E D O U E E N Bo ADIC E A. 5 5 

31 Aug. 1300 J '^ 

Even as in India once they did 

against those people there 
With cruel curs, in shameful sort, 

the men both rent and tare ; 
And set the ladies great with child 

upright against a tree, 
And shot them through with piercing darts : 

such would their practice be 1 

Did not the Romans in this land 

sometimes like practice use 
Against the Britains bold in heart, 

and wondrously abuse 
The valiant king whom they had caught, 

before his queen and wife. 
And with most extreme tyranny, 

despatched him of his life ? 

The good Queen Boadicea, 

and eke her daughters three ; 
Did they not first abuse them all 

by lust and lechery ; 
And, after, stripped them naked all, 

and whipped them in such sort. 
That it would grieve each Christian heart 

to hear that just report ? 

And if these ruffling mates of Rome 

did Princes thus torment ; 
Think you ! the Romish Spaniards now 

would not shew their descent ? 
How did they, late, in Rome rejoice, 

in Italy and Spain ; 
What ringing and what bonfires ! 

what iVuiit's sung amain ! 



56 SrANISII ACCOUNTS THAT LoNDON WAS FIRED. [ J Ai;;':'"s78': 

What printed books were sent about 

as filled their desire, 
How England was, by Spaniards won, 

and London set on fire ! 
Be these the men, that are so mild ! 

whom some so holy call ! 
The LORD defend our noble Queen 

and country from them all ! 

T. l\ 

FINIS. 

Imprinted at London, by Thomas O r vv i n and 

Thomas G u b b i n ; and are to be sold in 

Paternoster Row, over against 

the Black Raven, 



v..^^ 




COM ME NTAR IE S 

O F 

Sir FRANCIS VERE, 

Being 

divers Pieces of Service, wherein he 

had command ; written by himself, 

in way of Comme?2tary, 



Published by 
William Dillingham, D.D. 

Ut y It R us in snis CommenlVirns prodiiiit. Camuen', Annal. 
Mihi sufficit hcPC suiiuiiatiin e V E R I Coninientario atinotaisc. Idem. Ibid. 



CAMBRIDGE: 

Printed by J o h n Field, Printer to the famous 
University. Anno Bom. M D C L V 1 1 . 



58 



[B}'ave Vere ! who hast by deeds of ai'7ns made good 
What thou hadst promised by birth and blood, 
IVIiose Courage ncer turned edge, being backed with wise 
And sober Reason, sharpened with Advice. 
Look, Reader, hozu from Nicuport hills, he throws 
Himself a tJumderbolt amongst his foes I 
And wJiat his Sword indited, that his Pen 
With like success doth here fight der again ! 
What Mars performed. Mercury doth tell! 
None eer but Cesar fought and ivrote so well! 
]Vhy may not then his book this title carry. 
The Second Part of Cesar's Commentary ? 

Vert S c i p i a d Ai 

duo fulmina belli.] 




59 



To the Right Worshipful 

H O R A C E To W N S H E N D , 

Baronet, 

Right \\'orshipful, 

Here present you with the Works, that is. with 
the Actions and Writings of your great uncle, Sir 
Francis Vere ; unto which, as you have a right 
by blood, common to some others with you, so 
have you also right by purchase, proper and peculiar to 
yourself alone : having freely contributed to adorn the 
impression xontrihuicd towards tlic engravings of tJic original 
edition] ; wherein you have consulted, as the reader's delight 
and satisfaction, so the honour and reputation of your family. 
I have read of one that used to wear his father's picture 
always about him ; that, by often looking thereon, he might 
be reminded to imitate his virtues, and to admit of nothing 
unworthy of the memory of such an ancestor. Now, Sir, I 
think you shall not need any monitor than 3-our own name ! 
if, but as often as you write it or hear it spoken, you recall 
into your thoughts, those of your progeniio/s, who contributed 
to it: your honoured father, Sir Roger Towxshexd, and 
your grandfather, the truly honourable and valiant the Lord 
Vere of Tilbury; men famous in their generations, for owning 
religion, not only by profession, but also by the practice 
and patronage of it. Whose virtues, while you shall make 
the pattern of your imitation, you will increase in favour 
with GOD and man, and answer the just expectations of 
your country. And that you may so do, it is the earnest 
desire, and hearty pra3-er of, 

Sir, 
Your very respectful friend and humble servant, 

William Dillingham. 



'^^- 





To the increnuous Reader, 

Lthough this book can neither need, nor admit of any 
Letters Recommendatory front so mean a hand : yet 
I tliou'^ht it not incongruous to <^ive thee some account 
of it ; especially coming forth so many years after the 
author's death [Sir Francis Verb died 28th August, 1C08, 
set. 54]. 

Know then, that some years since, it was my good hap to meet 
with a copy [i.e., in manuscript] of it, in the library of a friend, 
which had been cither transcribed from, or at least compared with 
another in the oianing and possession of Major General Skippon : 
which I had no sooner looked into, hut I found myself led on with 
exceeding delight, to the perusal of it. The gallantry of the action, 
the modesty of the author, and the bscomingness of the style, did 
much affect me : and I soon resolved that such a treasure could 
not, without ingratitude to the author and his noble family, nor 
without a manifest injury to the repute our English Nation, yea, 
and unto truth itself, be any longer concealed in obscurity. 

Whereupon, I engaged my best endeavours to bring it into the 
public vieiv : but finding some imperfections and doubtful places 
in that copy, I gave myself to further inquiry after some other 
copies ; supposing it very improbable that they should all stumble 
at the same stone. 

And so, I was favoured with another copy out of the increasing 
library of the Right Honourable the Earl of WESTMORELAND, 
which had been transcribed immediately from the author's own; 



W. DiUinshnm, P n.-j gjp^ Jqj^^- OgLE's ACCOUNTS ADDED. 6 I 

another, the Honourable the Lord Fairfax icas f-ijascd to afford 
me the perusal of : but that which teas instar omnium, was the 
Original itself, written by the author's own hand, being the goods 
and treasure of the Right Honourable the Earl of Clare, but at 
present, through his favour, in my possession. 

These, Reader ! are the Personages whose favour herein, I am, 
even upon thy account, obliged here to remember and acknowledge. 

I have subjoined Sir John Ogle's account of the Last Charge 
at Xieuport battle : whom, I suppose, our author himself would 
have allowed {being his Lieutenant-Colonel) to bring up the rear. 
I have also inserted his account of the Parley at the siege of Ostend. 
Both were communicated to nie, by the same friendly hand the 
Earl of Clare] that first lent me the copy ^manuscript] of Sir 
Francis Vere. 

And, for thy further satisfaction, I have adventured to continue 
the story of that Siege, from the time that our Author put up his 
pen, to the time that he put up his sword there : having first, by 
his example, taught others the way how to defend the town. . . . 

I will not here mention anything concerning our author's life 
and extraction. The one whereof is sufficiently known : and for 
the other, I shall content myself with what Sir Robert Naunton 
hath briefly written of him, which I have printed here before the 
book; which is all but a larger Commentary upon that which he 
hath there delivered. , 



Only give me leave to bemoan a little our own loss, and the 
author's unhappiness in this, that his noble brother [Sir Horace 
Vere], having been in courage equal, and in hazards undivided, 
should leave him here to go alone. For as he must be allowed a 
great share in these actions recorded by his brother : so were his 
oivn services afterwards, when General of the English, so eminent 
and considerable, that they might easily have furnished another 
Commentary; had not his oicn exceeding modesty proved a step- 
mother to his deserved praises. 



62 OkFICKRS TRAIXi:!) BY LoRD X^KIiK. P^'' 



Dillingham, 1) D- 

1657. 



He was a religious, wise, and valiant Coinnmndcr : and, that 
which quartered him in the bosom of the Prince of Orange, he 
was always successful in his enterprises ; sometimes, to the admira- 
tion both of friends and enemies. Take an instance or two. 

When he took Sluis, there icas one stroui^hold first to be taken, 
ivhich he found some difficulty to overcome ; and tJiat was, the 
opinion of his friends of the impossibility of the enterprise. Ajid 
for his enemies, SPINOLA himself, were he now alive, iconld, I 
question not, do J:im the rii^'ht wJiicli he did him in his lifetime : 
and bear witness ofhisi^allaiit retreat with ^,000 from between his 
very finders ; when, with three times that number, he had grasped 
up the Prince and his men against the seashore. 

And because the proficiency of the Scholars was ever accounted a 
good argument of their Mastei^'s ability ; I shall make bold, with 
their leaves, to give you a list of some of his [Sir Horace, after- 
wards Lord Verb of Tilbury, who died in 1635J. 

Henry, Earl of Oxford. Sir John Conyers, Captain. 

Thomas, Lord Fairfax. Sir Thomas Gale, Captain. 

Sir Edward Vere, LieiU.- Sir William Lovelace, Captain. 

Colonel. Sir Robert Carey, Captain. 

Sir Simon Harcourt, Sir Jacob Ashley, Captain. 

Sergeant Major. Sir Thomas Conway, Captain. 

Sir Thomas Button, Sir John Burlacy, Captain. 

Captain. Sir THOMAS WiNNE, Captain. 

Sir Henry Paiton, Sir Ger^vase] Herbert, 

Captain. Captain. 

Sir John Burroughs, Sir EdwardHarwood, Captain. 

Captain. Sir Michael Everid, Captain. 
Sir Thomas Gates, Captain. 

Besides divers others, whose effigies [portraits] do at once, both 
guard and adorn Kirly Hall in Essex ; where the truly religious 
and honourable the Lady Vere doth still survive [in i6^y],kept 
alive thus long by special Providence, that the present Age might 



W. Dillingham, 



fej^*] The daughters of Lord Vere. 6; 



i}W)'e than read and remcmhcr^ what was trice godliness in [at] 
eighty-eighth 

As for her Lord and husband, who died long since [in 1635"', 
though he left no heir male behind him, to bear his name ; yet 
hath he distributed his blood, to run in the veins of many honour- 
able and worshipful families in England. For his daughters 
were. The . Right Honourable, Honourable and virtuous, the 
Countess of Clare, the Lady Townshend now Countess of 
Westmoreland, the Lady Paulet, the Lady Fairfax, and 
Mistress WoRSTENHOLME : whose pardon I crave, for making 
so bold with their names ; but my hope is, they will be willing to 
become witnesses unto their Uncle's book (though a warlike birth) y 
and toJet their names midwife it into the world. 



Thus, Reader, I have given thee a brief account of this piece, 
and so recommend mc to Sir Francis Vere ! 



«^T^ 




64 Naunton's account of Sir F. Vere. p'^^^ 



Naiinton. 




5/;' Robert Naunton, in his Fragmenta Regalia, p. 41. 

V E RE. 

i|TK Francis Verb was of that ancient, and of the 
most noble, extract of the Earls of Oxford ; and 
it may be a question whether the Nobility of 
his House or the Honour of his Achievements 

mi;^ht most commend him ; but that we have our authentic 

rule, 

Nam genus, ct proavos, et qucc non fccimus ipsi 
Vix ca nostra voco, &c. 

For though he was an honourable Slip of that ancient Tree 
of Nobility, which was no disadvantage to his virtue : yet he 
brought more glory to the Name of Verb, than he took blood 
from the Family. 

He was, amongst all the Queen's Swordsmen [military and 
naval o//;cc7-s], inferior to none; but superior to many. Of 
whom, it may be said, " To speak much of him, were the way 
to leave out somewhat that might add to his praise, and to 
forget more that would make to his honour." 

I find not, that he came much to the Court, for he lived 
almost perpetually in the Camp : but when he did, none had 
more of the Queen's favour, and none less envied. For he 
seldom troubled it, with the noise and alarms of supplications : 
his way was another sort oi undermining ! 

They report, that the Queen, as she loved martial men, 
would Court this Gentleman, as soon as he appeared in her 
presence : and, surely, he was a soldier of great worth and 
Command ! 30 years in the service of the States [United 
Netherlands], and 20 years over the English in Chief, as the 
Queen's General. And he that had seen the battle at Nieu- 
port, might there best have taken him, and his noble brother, 
the Lord of Tilbury, to the life. 



65 




THE 

C M M E NT ARIES 

OF 

Sir FRANCIS VERE, 




^ Doemelcr IVacrt. 

N THE year of our Lord I5'*>9, the Count 
Charles Mansfeldt having passed part of 
his army into the Boemeler Waert (the rest 
lying in Brabant over against the island of 
Voorn), prepared both troops to pass into the 
said island, with great store of flat-bottomed 
boats ; his artillery being placed to the best 
advantage to favour the enterprise. 
The Ccunt Maurice had to impeach him, not above 800 
men : the vvh >le force that he was then able to gather to- 
gether, net beiiig above 1,500 men ; whereof the most were 
dispersed along the river of Waal, fronting the Boemeler 
Waert, to impeach the enemy's passage into the Betuvve. 
Of these Soo men ; 600 were English, of which myself had 
the command. 

These seemed small forces to resist the enemy, who was 
then reckoned about 12,000 men ; and therefore Count 
Maurice and Count Hollock \the popular name of Count 
Philip William Hohenlo], one day, doing me the honour 
to come to my quarters, put in deliberation, Whether it were 
not best to abandon the place ? 

E.\G. G^R. VII. 5 



66 The first relief of Riieixberc P''':/y^^^'g; 

Whereunto, ^\'l^en others inclined; my opinion was, That 
in re<j^ard of the importance of the place, and for the reputa- 
tion of Count Maupic'i, this heing the iirst enterprise 
wherein he commanded in person as chief; it could not be 
abandoned but with much reproach, without the knowledge 
and orders of the States General : and that theiefore they 
were first to be informed in what state things stood; I under- 
taking in the meantime, the defence of the place. 

Which counsel was followed ; and I used such industry 
both in the intrenching of the island and planting artiller}-, 
that the enemy, in the end, desisted from the enterprise. 



^ 


1 



The relief of Rheinberg. 

N THE year of our Lord 1589, the town of Berg 
upon the Rhine, being besieged by the Marquis of 
Wakrenbon, and distressed iof want of victuals : 
I was sent to the Count Meurs, Governor of 
Gelderland, by the States, with nine companies of 
English. 

At my coming to Arnheim, where he la}', in a Storehouse 
of munitions; in giving order for things necessary for his 
expedition, the powder was set on fire, and he so sorely burnt, 
that he died within few days after. 

The States of that Province called me before them, told me 
in what extremity the town was, the importance of the place, 
and facility in succouring it ; desiring me to proceed in 
the enterprise : which I did willingly assent unto; and they 
appointed seven companies of their own nation to join with 
me, which were to be left in Bc:rg in lieu of so many other 
companies to be drawn out hence. 

To the Count Overstein, a young Gentleman and then 
without any charge [coiiunaiul], as a kinsman and follower 
of the Count of Meurs, they gave the command of twelve 
companies of horse. 

With these troops, we passed to the Fort Calcti, made by 
Skink, over against Recs. W'hcre, finding the carriages 
appointed for that purjiosc, ready laden with provisions ; we 
marched towards Btrg, taking our way through a heathy 




^'■■/•y^;] FiGTIT IN THE WOODS NEAR LoO CaSTLE. 6/ 

and open country: and so, witli diligence surprisin.sj the 
enemy (who lay dispersed in their forts about the town), in 
full view of them, w^e put our provisions into the town ; and 
so returned to the said Fort by Kees, the same way we had 
gone. 

The second relieving of Rheinhcrg. 

|Fter some days' refreshing, new provision of 
victuals being made, it was thought good by the 
States, who, in the meantime had advice how 
things had passed, that we should with all speed, 
put in more provisions. 
Being advertised that the enemy gathered great forces at 
Brabant, under the conduct of the Count Mansfeldt, for the 
strait besieging of the town ; this made us hasten, and 
withal take the ordinary and ready way near the Rhine side. 
But because it was shorter, and not so open as the other ; 
and so more dangerous, if perchance the enemy with his full 
power should encounter us : and because there were upon it 
certain small redoubts held by the enemy ; we took along 
with us two small field pieces. 

When we came within two English miles of Berg, at a 
Castle called Loo 'afterwards the favourite residence of WiLLlAM 
III.], which stands on the side of a thick wood within musket 
shot of the way we were [intended] to take through the said 
wood: it; being very narrow and hemmed in, on both sides, 
with exceeding thick underwood (such, as I guess, as those 
dangerous places of Ireland). The enemy from the Castle 
first shewed themselves : and then came out towards the 
place, along the skirt of the wood, to gall our men and horses 
in their passage, with such bravery, as I might well perceive 
they were not of the ordinary garri-.on. 

I first sent out some few Shot [infantry with muskets] to 
beat them back ; giving order to our \'anguard in the mean- 
time, to enter the passage, the Dutch footmen to follow them, 
and the horsemen, and the carriages [wa^ij^ons] : with orders 
to pass with all diligence to the other side of the place, and 
then to make a stand, until the rest of the troops were come 
up to them ; keeping with myself, who stayed in the Rear- 
ward, 50 horse, 6 trumpeters, and all the English foot. 



68 The Spaniards driven back to the Castle, p/'yi 



ere. 

606. 



In the meantime, the enemy seconded [reinforced] tlieir 
troops of Shot, to the number 400 or 500 ; insomuch as I was 
forced to turn upon greater numbers with resolution to beat 
them home to their castle : which was so thoroughly per- 
formed, that, afterwards, they gave us leave to pass more 
quietl}'. 

When the rest of the troops were passed, I made the 
English enter the strait [ravine] : who were divided into 
two troops ; of which I took 100 men with 6 drums, placing 
them in the rearward of all ; myself with the 50 horse, 
marching betwixt them and the rest of the English footmen. 

This strait is about a quarter of an English mile long : 
and hath, about the middle of it, another way which cometh 
into it from Alpen, a small town not far off. 

When we were past this cross way, we might hear a great 
shout of men's voices redoubled twice or thrice, as the Spanish 
manner is, when they go to charge : but, by reason of the 
narrowness and crookedness of the place, had no sight of 
them. 

I presently caused the troops to march faster; and withal 
gave order to the trumpeters and drums that were with rne, 
to stand, and sound a Char<^c: whereupon there grew a great 
stillness amongst the enemy; who, as I afterwards under- 
stood by themselves, made a stand expecting to be charged. 

In the m.eantime, we went as fast from them as we could, 
till we had gotten the plain. Then having ridi^den] to the 
head of the troops, who were then in their long and single 
orders, and giving directions for the embattling of them, and the 
turning their faces towards the strait, and the mouth of pieces 
also; and so riding along the troops of English towards the 
place, I might see from the plain, which was somewhat high 
raised over the woods which were not tall, the enemy coming 
in great haste, over a bridge some eightscore [yards] within 
the strait, with ensigns [colours] displayed, very thickly 
thronged together; and, in a trice, they shewed themselves 
in the mouth of the strait. 

My hindermost troops, which were then near the strait, 
were yet in their long order : and with the suddenness of the 
sight somewhat amazed. Insomuch that a Captain, w'ell 
reputed and that had, the very same day, behaved himself 
very valiantly, though he saw me directing as became me, 



^'"/- y^g-] "I WAS NEVER LESS TO SEEK.'" 69 

often asked What he should do ? till, shortly and roughly, as 
his importunity and the time required I told him, that " I 
was never less to seek [i.e., never had less trouble to know u'hat 
to do] ! " that " he therefore should go to his place, and do 
as I had commanded, till further orders." 

And so doubting [fearing the enemy would get the plain 
before my troops would be thoroughly ordered to go against 
them ; I took some of the hinder ranks of the Pikes, and 
some Shot, with which I made out to the strait's mouth, 'at a 
great pace, willing the rest to follow: whereupon the enemy 
made a stand, as it were doubtful to come on ; and so I came 
presently to the push of pike with them. 

\Miere, at the first encounter, my horse being slain under 
me with a blow of a pike, and falling on me so as I could not 
suddenly rise, I lay as betwixt both troops till our men had 
made the enemy give back; receiving a hurt in my leg, and 
divers thrusts with pikes through my garments. 

It was very hard fought on both sides, till our Shot spread- 
ing themselves along the skirt of the wood, as I had before 
directed, flanked and sore galled the enemy: so that they 
could no longer endure, but were forced to give back : which 
they did without any great disorder, in troop. And, as the} were 
hard followed by our men, they turned and made head man- 
fully ; which they did four several times before they broke : 
and, at last, they flang away their arms, and scattered 
asunder, thrusting themselves into the thickets; for back- 
wards, they could not flee, the way being stopped by their 
own men. 

I commanded the men not to disband [scatter], but to pur- 
sue them ; and passing forward, easily discomfited the 500 
horsemen, who presently left their horses, and fled into the 
bushes: amongst whom, it was said the Marquis of Warkbx- 
BON was in person ; for the horse he was mounted on, was 
then taken amongst the rest. 

The horsemen who fled into the thick[et]s, we followed 
not : but went on the straight way, till we encountered with 
the 24 companies of Neapolitans; who discouraged with our 
success, made no great resistance. We took 18 of their 
ensigns [colours], and made a great slaughter of their men, till 
we had recovered the bridge before mentioned of them. 

My troop being small of itself, made less by this fight, and 



JO 400 English k 1 i. l Soo S p a n i a r d s. \^'"}'- y^oa: 

less by the covetousness of the soldiers (whereof a j::;ood part 
could no lon<j;er be kept from rillini;' the enemy and taking 
horses) ; I thought good, not to pursue the enemy further 
than the said bridge : where, having made a stand till our 
men had taken full spoil of all behind us, the enemy not once 
so much as shewing himself; night growing on, I made my 
retreat, and two hours after sunset, came with the troops 
into the town of Berg. 

This fight was begun and ended with one of the two 
English troops [battaVons of infantry], which could not exceed 
400 men: the other, which Sir Oliver Lambert led, only 
following, and shewing itself in good order, and ready if 
occasion required ; the Netherlanders remaining in the plain, 
with the horsemen and the Count Overstein. 

The enemy lost about 800 men killed] ; and b}' an Italian 
Lieutenant of Horsemen, who was the only man taken alive, 
I understood, that Count Mansfeldt was newly, before this 
encounter, arrived ; and had joined his forces with those of 
the Marquis of Warrenbon, in which were all the Spanish 
regiments making 220 ensigns, besides other forces : so that 
the whole strength was supposed to be 13,000 or 14,000 foot, 
and 1,200 horse, of their oldest and best soldiers. 

They had intelligence of our coming, but expected us the 
way we had taken before ; and made all speed to impeach us 
by cutting off this passage, sending those harquebussiers we 
first met with by the Castle, to entertain us in skirmish. 

Presently, upon my coming to Berg, though in great pain 
with my wound, we fell to deliberation what was to be done. 
We knew the enemy's strength, and the danger we were to 
abide in returning : and to stay in the town were to hasten 
the loss of it, by eating the provisions we had brought. 

Of the two, we chose rather to return. And so giving order 
for the change of garrison and refreshing our men, and 
bestowing those who were hurt, on the empty carriages; by 
the break of da\', the morning being very foggy and misty, 
we set forward, in as secret manner as we could, taking 
the open and broader way : without sight of any enemy till 
about noon, when some troops of horse discovered themselves 
afar off, upon a very spacious heath, and gave us only the 
looking on. So that, without any impeachment, we arrived, 
that night, at the fori bclorc Rces. 



Sir F Veie 



•/' yi^;.] Simultaneous assaults on Litkenhooven. 71 




The relieving of the Castle of Litkenhooven. 

N THE year of our Lord 1590, in the Castle of 
Litkenhooven in the Fort of Recklinghausen, 
there was a garrison of the States' soldiers besieged 
by the people of that country, aided with some 
good number of the Duke of Clf.ve's, the 
Bishops of Cologne and Paderborn's soldiers, whom they call 
Hanniveers. 

The States gave me order, with some companies of English 
foot, to the number of 700 or 800, and 500 Horse, to go to the 
relief of the said Castle: which I accepted, marching with 
all possible speed, in good hope to have surprised them at 
unawares. Arriving there one morning by break of day; I 
found the chief troop was dislodged, and that they the gannson] 
wrought hard upon a fort before the entry of the Castle 
in which they had left good store of men. 

I did expect to have found them without any entrenchment, 
and therefore had brought no provision of artillery or scaling 
ladders : without the which, it seemed very dangerous and 
difficult to carry it by assault. [The entrenchment] was 
reared of a good height with earth, and then with gabions 
thereupon, of six feet high, which made it almost unmount- 
able : and to besiege them, I had no provision of victuals. 
So that I was to return without making of any attempt ; or 
to attempt in a manner against reason : which notwithstand- 
ing, I resolved to adventure. 

And therefore, dividing the English troops into eight parts, 
I conveyed them as secretly as I could, so as two of these 
troops might readily assault every corner of the said Fort, 
being a square of four small bulwarks [bastions or batteries] , 
but with a distance betwixt the troops : to give on each 
corner with a signal of drums, at which, the first four troops 
should go to the assault; and another signal to the other four 
troops to second [support] , if need required. 

While this was in doing, I sent a drum, to summon them 
of the Fort to yield : who sent me word, " They would first 
see my artillery." 

I saw by their fashion, there was no good to be done by 
entreaty : yet to amuse them, I sent them word, '' The 



72 Attack on tiik Fort near Burick. [^"'/■ycui 



. Vere. 

6. 



artillery was not j'et arrived. If they made me stay the 
coming of it, I would give them no conditions ! " 
They answered, " That I should do my worst ! " 
At the very instant of my drum's return, I gave the signal, 
and the troops speedily gave upon the Fort, as I had ap- 
pointed them. Though they did their utmost endeavours, 
they did find more resistance than they were able to overcome ; 
nevertheless, I gave them no second [reinforcement] till I 
might perceive those within had spent their ready powder in 
their furnitures. At which time, I gave the second signal ; 
which was well and willingly obeyed, and gave such courage 
to the first troops, that the assault was more eager on all 
hands; insomuch that one soldier helping another, some got 
to the top of the rampires [ramparts] : at which, the enemy 
gave back, so that the way became more easy for others to 
climb to the top ; and so finally, the place was forced, and 
all the men put to the sword, being in number 350, all chosen 
men, with the loss and hurting of about 80 of my men. 

The place thus succoured, and my men refreshed for some 
few days, I returned homewards: and found in my wa}', that 
Burick a small town of Cleve, and a little fort on that side the 
Rhine, were in the meantime surprised. 

The enemy then held a Royal Fort not far from Wesel, 
whicl) served to favour the passage of his forces over the 
Rhine, Tfiis place, I understood by those of Wesel, to be 
slenderly provided of victuals, so as they had but to serve 
them from hand tp mouth, out of the town ; and that their 
store pf powder was small. 

I knew the service would be acceptable to the States, if I 
could take that Piece from the enem}- ; and therefore resolved 
to do what lay in me. 

I fifst appointee} a guard of horse and foot to hinder their 
recourse to the town, for their provisions. 

Then passing into the town of l^urick ; with such stuff as 
I could get on a sudden, and siich workmen, I began to make 
ladders, so as, the night following, I had forty ladders in 
readiness, upon which two men [at a timej might go in front. 
For I being so weak, and the enemy having the alarm of my 
being abroad, I was to expect their coming: so as it was 
not for me to linger upon the starving of those of the Fort. 



Sir F. Vcre. 
? 1 606 



] The first escalade on the Fort fails, "jt, 



With this provision, I resolved to give a scalado to the 
Fort : which as it was hiqh of rampire ; so had it had neither 
water in the ditch, nor palhsado to hinder us. 

The Fort was spacious, capable of Hioldingi 1,500 men, and 
had had four very royal Bulwarks [bastions] ; upon one of 
which, I purposed to give an attempt, and only false alarms 
on the other quarters of the Fort. And to this end, for 
avoiding confusion in the carriage, rearing, planting, and 
scaling; as also for the more speedy and round execution : I 
appointed eight men to every ladder, to bear, plant, and mount 
the same ; whereof four were Shot, and four Pikes, one of 
either sort to mount a-front. 

And being come near the Fort, in a place convenient to 
range the men ; they were divided into two parts, and ranged 
a-front [in line] ; with commandment, upon a signal given, 
the one half to give upon one face of the bulwark, the other 
upon the other: which they did accordin,<;ly, and gave a furious 
attempt, mounting the ladders and fighting at the top of 
them ; the enemy being ready to receive us. But by reason 
many of the ladders (which were made, as I said, in haste 
and of such stuff as could be gotten on a sudden) were not 
of sufficient strength : they broke with the weight and stirring 
of the men. 

Seeing no likelihood to prevail, and the day now growing 
on ; I caused our men to retire, and to bring away ^\•ith 
them their ladders that were whole : with no great harm 
done to our men, by reason the enemy, being diverted by the 
false alarms, did not flank us ; neither if they had played 
from the Flanks [bastions] with small shot, could they have 
done any great hurt, by reason of the distance. The most 
hurt we had, was with blows on the head from the place we 
attempted, both with weapons and stones : for the journey 
being long, to ease the soldiers, they had brought forth no 
morions [helmets] . 

I therefore, purposing not to give over the entei'prise, 
provided headpieces for them in the town of Wesel, and used 
such diligence that, before the next morning, I was again 
furnished with ladders, and in greater number. For I had 
persuaded the horsemen, that were well armed for the pur- 
pose with their pistols, to take some ladders also, and be 
ready to give the scalado in the same manner : but some- 



74 The garrison surrender the Fort. p/\' 



ore, 

606, 



^vhat later, for even then clay be,<;an to break ; which not 
giving us time to persevere in the attempt, was the only 
hindrance of our victory. 

For our Shot having orders, when they came to the top of 
the ladders, not to enter, but taking the top of the wall for a 
breast [work] and safeguard, to shoot at the enemy fighting 
at the work side and standing in the hollow of the bulwark, 
till the same were cleared of defendants, for to enter more 
assuredly : which manner of assaulting, though it be not 
ordinary, yet well considered, is of wonderful advantage. 
For having the outside of both the faces of the Bulwark 
not flanked as I said before, on their backs, which in the 
darkness of the night, and for the alarms given on the other 
parts, they could not see or intend. 

And in this manner having galled and driven many of the 
enemy from the wall ; and being in a manner ready to enter: 
day came upon us, and the enemy having discovered us from 
the other flanks, turned both small and great shot against us; 
so as we were forced to retire, carrying our ladders with us, 
with less loss than the day before in the fight, though more 
in the retreat by reason of the daylight. 

The same day, I provided more ladders, purposing, the 
next morning, to try fortune again : when, in the evening, 
the Governor of the Fort, by a drum [drummer] wrote me a 
letter complaining that, against the ordinary proceedings of 
men of war, I assaulted before I summoned : and the drum in 
mine ear told me, that " if I would but do them the honour 
to shew them any piece of ordnance, I should quickly have 
the Fort ! " 

By which drawing of theirs, I perceived tliey were in fear, 
and in discretion thought it meeter to make my advantage 
thereof, by drawing them to yield, than to despair them, to my 
greater loss, by further attempting to carry them by force. 

And so, taking a piece out of the town of Burick, I planted 
the same before morning; and, by break of day, sent a 
trumpet to summon them to yield. 

Which the\' assented to, so they might pass away with 
their arms : -which I granted. 

And so they came forth, the same morning ; two companies 
oi Almains [Gcninuis and two half companies of Italians : 
being nearly as strong m number as those ihat attempted 



^V'TeodG Soldiers dressed as market women. 75 

them ; for besides the English, I used none, but some few 
horsemen. 

Most of their officers were hurt and slain, and of the 
soldiers, more than of mine. 

This is true, I therefore let it be thought, that howsoever 
this attempt may seem rash with the ordinary proceedings of 
other Captains ; yet, notwithstanding, I was confident upon 
a certain and infallible discourse of reason. 

In the place, I found four double-cannon, with a pretty 
store of ammunition and victuals. 

The same night, I and the troops were countermanded by 
the States : but I left the place with some guard and a better 
Uore of necessaries, before my departure. 



The surprise of Zutphcn Sconce. 

N THE year of our Lord 1591, I lying then at 
Doesburg, with the English forces ; the Count 
Maurice wrote unto me, that, by a certain day, 
he would be, with his forces, before Zutphen, to 
besiege the same, willing me, the night before, 
with my troops of horse and foot of that country [Dntcli 
troops], to beset the town on the same side of the river on 
which it standeth. 

On the same side, those of the town held a Fort, which 
made my Lord of Leicester lose many men and much time 
before he could get it. 

The Fort I thought necessary to take from the enemy, 
before he had knowledge of our purpose to besiege him : and 
because I wanted force to work it by open means, I put this 
sleight following in practice. 

I chose a good number of lusty and hardy young soldiers, 
the most of which, I apparelled like the country women of 
those parts; the rest, like the men: and gave to some, 
baskets; to others packs, and such burdens as the people 
usually carry to the market ; with pistols, short swords, and 
daggers under their garments. Willing them, by two or 
three in a company, by break of da}^ to be at the ierry at 
Zutphen, which is just against the Fort, as if they stayed lur 




Pre. 

t3o6. 



76 Vere defends a bridge of ro \ts all night. [^''■/' \ 

the passage boat of the town : and bade them to sit and rest 
themselves, in the meantime, as near the gate of the Fort as 
they could for avoiding suspicion ; and to seize upon the 
same, as soon as it was opened. 

Which took so good effect, that they possessed the entry 
of the Fort, and held the same till an ofiicer with 200 
soldiers, who were laid in a covert not far off, came to their 
seconds [siipporls] ; and so became fully masters of the place. 

By which means, the siege of the town afterwards proved 
the shorter. 




The siege of Dcvcntcr. 

N THE siege of Deventer, by reason of the shortne';s 
of a bridge of boats laid over the ditch, for our 
men to go to the assault ; the troops could not so 
roundly [quickly] pass as had been requisite, and 
so were forced to retire with no small loss. 
The Count Maurice was so discouraged, that he proposed, 
that night, to have withdrawn his ordnance. 

I desired that he would have patier.ce, till the next day ; 
and resolve in the moining to begin the battery as^jain, for 
five or six volleys, and then to summon them : assuring him 
that I would guard the bridge that night, if the enemy should 
attempt to barn it: as they did, though in vain. 

The Count Maurice liked well of the advice, and it had 
good success : for upon the summons, they }ielded. 

Their town had no Flank on that part. The wall, which 
was of brick, without any rampire, was in a manner razed 
to the foundation; and the town so close behind it, that they 
could not make any new defences: which, as they might be 
just causes of discouragement to the besieged; so they made 
me conhdent that, with this shew of perseverance, they would 
} ield. 

The Count Herman of Berg, who commanded the town, 
was sore bruised with a cannon. There marched of the 
enemy out with him, 700 or 800 able men. Amongst which, 
was an English Gentleman, whom, for his using unreverent 
and slanderous speeches of Her Majesty, I had long held in 
prison: out of which, he had, during that siege, made an 



^■yS] Here's stratagem agatxsttiie Duke of Par^l\. 77 

escape. He was excepted in the Composition, taken from 
them, and executed as he well deserved, nut for his first, but 
his second offence. 




TJie defeat given to the Duke of Par ma 
at Knodsenbicrg Fort. 

N THE year of our Lord 1591, whilst the Count 
Maurice was busied in Friesland, and with good 
success took many forts, as Delfziel, and others 
about Groeningen, the Duke of Parma passed 
with his army into the Betuwe, and besieged the 
Fort on that side the river, upon the ferry to Nimeguen. 

Whereupon the States countermanded the Count Maurice, 
with their forces ; who, being come to Arnheim, encamped in 
the Betuwe, right over against that town. 

The Duke still continuing his siege, the States, who were 
then present at Arnheim (desirous us to hinder his purpose, if 
it were possible) in their Assembly, to which I was called with 
the Count Maurice, propounded the matter, and insisted 
to have something exploited [acliicvcd] : though we had laid 
before them the advantage the enemy had of us, in the number 
of his men, the strength of his encamping, as well by the 
site of the country as entrenchments. So as much time was 
spent, and the Council dissolved without resolution upon 
any special enterprise : albeit, in general, the Count Maurice 
and the men of war agreed to do their utmost endeavour, 
for the annoying and hindering of the enemy. 

I had observed by the enemy's daily coming with good 
troops of horse, and forcing of our scouts [videttes], that they 
were likely to bite at any bait that was cunningly laid for 
them ; and therefore, having informed myself of the ways 
and passages to their army, and projected with myself a 
probable plot to do some good on them, I brake the same to 
the Count Maurice: who liked my device well, and recom- 
mended to me the execution thereof; giving me the troops 
I demanded, which were 1,200 foot and 500 horse. 

The distance betwixt the two armies was about four or 
five English miles ; to the which there lay two ready ways 



78 Vere's cavalry attack Parma's outposts. [ 



rSIr F. Vere. 
1606. 



serving for the intercourse betwixt Arnlieim and Nimeguen: 
the one a dike or causeway which was narrower, and most 
used in winter, by reason of the lowness and miriness of the 
country ; the other larger [broader] : both hemmed in with 
overgrown ditches and deep ditches. 

Nearly half a mile from the quarters, this causeway was to 
be passed to come to the other way, which led to the main 
quarters of the enemy, where most of his horse lay. About 
two-thirds of the way from our camp, there was a bridge. 

To this bridge I marched early in the morning, sending 
forthwith towards the enemy's camp 200 light and well- 
mounted horse, with orders to beat [drive in] the guards of 
the enemy's horse, even to their very quarters, and guards of 
foot ; to take such spoil and prisoners as lay ready in their 
way : and so to make their retreat, if they were followed, 
more speedily ; otherwise at an ordinary marching pace. 

In the meantime I divided my footmen into two parts, 
whereof, one I laid near the hither side of the bridge, in a 
place very covert ; the other, a quarter of a mile behind : 
and in the rearward of them, the rest of m}' horse. 

If the enemy came in the tail of our horse (whom for 
that purpose I had appointed, as beforesaid, to come more 
leisurely, that the enemy might have time to get to horse), I 
knew they could bring no footmen : and therefore was 
resolved to receive betwixt my troops of foot, all the horse- 
men they could send. But if they pursued not our men in 
the heat, I judged they would either come with good numbers 
of both kinds of men ordered [in order , or not at all. And if 
they came with good advice, that they would rather seek to 
cut off my passage near home, by the causeway and higher 
way, than to follow me directly. For the better preventing 
whereof, the Count Maurice himself, with a choice part of the 
horse and foot of the army, was to attend at the crossway to 
favour my retreat. 

My horsemen, about noon, gave the enemy the alarm ; and 
according to their directions, made their retreat, no enemy 
appearing. Whereupon I also retired with the rest of the 
troops till I came to the crossway, v;here I found the Count 
Maurice with his troops. 

In the head of which, towards the way of the causeway, 
with some distance l^ctwixt his troops and mine, I made a 



Sir F. Vere.' 

; 1 606 



] The Duke of Parma gives up the siege. 79 



stand in a little field by the side of the way, where they were 
at covert. 

We had not been here half-an-hour, but our scouts brought 
word the enemy were at hand: which Count Maurice's 
horsemen hearing, without any orders, as every one could 
get foremost, to the number of 700 or 800, they made with 
all speed towards the enemy. 

I presumed, and said, " They would return faster, and in 
more disorder! " as it fell out. For the enemy coming as 
fast towards them, but in better order, put them presently in 
rout : and the gr&ater the number was, the more was the 
amazement and confusion. Thus the}' passed by us, with 
the enemy at their heels, laying on them. 

I knew not what other troops they had at hand, nor what 
discouragements this sight might put into the minds of our 
men ; and therefore (whereas I purposed to have let the 
enemy pass, if this unlooked disorder had not happened 
amongst our horsemen) I shewed my troops on their flanks, 
and galled them both with Shot and Pikes ; so that they not 
only left pursuing their chase, but turned their backs. 
Which our horsemen perceiving, followed, and thus revenged 
themselves to the full ; for they never gave over until they 
had wholly defeated the troop, which was of 800 horse : of 
which, they brought betwixt 200 and 300 prisoners, whereof 
divers were Captains, as Don Alphonso d'Avalos, Fradilla, 
and others ; with divers Cornets, and about 500 horses. 

This defeat so troubled the Duke of Parma, that, though 
so forward in his siege, and having filled part of the ditch of 
the Fort, he retired his army thence, and passed the river 
of Waal a little above Nimeguen, with more dishonour than 
in any action that he had undertaken in these wars. 




So 




The Calls [Cadiz] yourney. 




N THE year of our Lord 1596, I was sent for 
into lin^Iand, at that time when the journey 
to the Coast of Spain was resolved on : 
which because of the taking of Calis, was, 
after, commonly called the Calis \Cadiz\ 
Journey. 

I returned speedily into the Low Countries, 
with Letters of Credence from Her ^Lajesty, 
to acquaint them with Her Majesty's purpose, and to hasten 
the preparation of the shipping they had already promised 
to attend Her Majesty's Fleet in those seas: withal to let 
them know Her Majesty's desire to have 2,000 of her own 
subjects, as well of those in their pay as her own, to be 
employed in that action, and to be conducted by me, to 
the Earl of Essex and the Lord Admiral of England 
[Lord Howard of Effin^hanii, Generals of that action, by 
joint Commission. 

Whereur to the States assented : and I (according to my 
instructions; given me in that behalf), by the time appointed, 
shipped and transported to ihit rendezvous vj\\\Q.h. was assigned 
me before Pjoulogne on the coast of France, by reason that 
Calais in France was then besieged by the Cardinal Albi-:rt. 
Upon that occasion, it was resolved to have employed this 
army for the succour and relief thereof ; but coming into that 
road [Boulof^nc], I found no shipping of ours: and under- 
standing that Calais was yielded the day before, I crossed the 
sea to Dover, where I found the whole Fleet, and the 
Generals ; who received me with much joy and favour, being 
then, thoui;h far unworthy of so weighty a charge, chosen to 



Sir F. Vere 
? 1606 



;■] Vere coaches Lord Essex in tactics, &c. 81 



supp]}^ the place of Lieutenant General [second in command] 
of the Army, by the name and title of Lord Marshal. 

The Fleet set sail shortly after, and my Lord of Essex, 
leaving his own ship, embarked himself in the Rainbow with 
myself and some few of his ordinary attendant servants > of 
purpose, as I suppose, to confer with me at the full and at 
ease, of his Journey. 

After two days' sailing, his Lordship landed at Beachim, 
near Rye, with divers other noblemen that he had, attending 
him so far on his Journey. 

He took me along with him to the Court ; and thence 
despatched me to Plymouth, whither most of the [other] land 
forces were to march, to see them lodged, provided with 
necessaries, trained, and ordered [marshalled into companies, 
&c.]', which I did accordingly: to the great contentment of 
the Generals, when, at their coming, they saw the readiness 
of the men, which were then exercised before them. 

During the stay of this Army near Plymouth, which (by 
reason of the contrariety of wind) was nearly a month, it 
pleased my Lord of Essex to give me much countenance, and 
to have me always near him ; which drew upon me no small 
envy, insomuch as some open jars fell out betwixt Sir 
Walter Raleigh, then Rear-Admiral of the Navy, Sir 
CoNNiERS Clifford, Serjeant- Major General of the Army, 
and myself: which the General qualified for the time, and 
ordered that in all meetings at land, I should have the 
precedence of Sir Walter Raleigh ; and he, of me at sea. 

[As to] Sir CoNNiERS Clifford, though there were 
grudging, there could be no competition. Yet being a man 
of haughty stomach, and not of the greatest government or 
experience in martial discipline, lest ignorance or will might 
mislead him in the execution of his Office, and to give a rule 
to the rest of the High Officers, who were chosen rather for 
favour, than for long continuance in service ; to the better 
directing of them in their duties, as also for the more readiness 
in tlT,e General himself, to judge and distinguish upon all 
occasions of controversy: I propounded to my Lord of Essex, 
as a thing most necessary, the setting down in writing what 
belonged properly to every Office in the field. Which notion 
his Lordship liked well, and at several times in the 
morning, his Lordship and myself being together, he, with 

Ea'g. Gar. VII. 5 



82 The Expedition arrives in Cadiz Bay. [ 



Sir F. Vere. 
1606. 



liis own hand, wr^te what my industry and experience had 
made me able to deliver : which was afterwards copied, and 
delivered severally to the Officers ; and took so good effect 
that no question arose in that behalf, during the Journey. 
[It is quite clear that Vere vjas used to teach this army the Art 
of War, as he had learnt it by actual experience in the Netherland<^.] 

The wind serving, and the troops shipped, I embarked in 
the foresaid Rainboic, as Vice-Admiral of my Lord of Essex's 
Squadron. 

The one and twentieth day after, being as I take it, the 
ist of July [O.S.], the Fleet arrived early in the morning 
before Calis-Malis [the city of Cadiz], and shortl}' after, came 
to an anchor as near the Caletta as the depth would suffer us. 

In the mouth of the bay, thwart of the rocks called Los 
pucrcos, there lay, to our judgement, 40 or 50 tall ships; 
whereof four were of the King's greatest and warlikest galleons, 
eighteen merchant ships of the West Indian Fleet outward 
bound and richly laden ; and the rest were private merchant 
ships. 

Ijecause it was thought these could not escape us in putting 
to sea, the first project of landing our men in the Caletta 
went on : and so the troops appointed for that purpose, were 
embarked in our barges and long-boats. But the wind 
blowing hard, the landing was thought too dangerous ; the 
rather for that the enemy shewed themselves on the shore, 
with good troops of horse and foot. 

Notwithstanding, in hope the weather would calm, the 
men were still kept in the boats, at the ships' sterns. 

This da}', the Cicnerals met not together : but the Lord 
Admiral had most of the sea officers aboard with him, as the 
Lord of Essex had those for land service ; and Sir Walter 
Raleigh was sent to and fro betwixt them with messages. 
So that, in the end, it was resolved and agreed upon, to put, 
the next tide, into the Bay : and after the defeating of the 
enemy's fleet, to land our men between the town Cadiz] and 
Punthal; without setting down any more particular directions 
for the execution thereof. 

I then told my Lord of Essex that mine was a floaty 
[light of draught] ship, and well appointed for that service, 
that, " therefore, if his Lordship pleased ! I was desirous to 
put in before his Lordship, and the other ships of greater 



^'"■/■y^"^:] They find 40 or 50 ships in the Bay. S^ 

burden." To which his Lordship answered suddenly, that 
" In any case, I should not go in before him ! " 

With this, I and the rest of the officers went to our ships, 
to prepare ourselves. 

I took my company of soldiers out of the boats into my ship : 
for their more safety, and better strengthening of my ship. 

And because we had anchored more to the north of the 
Fleet, more astern, and to the leeward of the Fleet as the 
wind then blew, than any other ship ; I thought to recover 
these disadvantages by a speedier losing of my anchor than 
the rest. And, therefore, not attending to the General's 
signal and warning, so soon as the tide began to favour my 
purpose, I fell to weighing my anchor. 

But the wind was so great, and the billows so high, that 
the capstan, being too strong for my men, cast them against 
the ship's side, and spoiled [hurt] many of them ; so that 
after many attempts to wind up the anchor, I was forced to 
cut cable in the hawse. When I was under sail, I plied 
only to windward, lying off and on from the mouth of the 
Bay to the sea, which lieth near at hand, east and west : by 
that means gathering nearer to the Fleet. 

The Lord Thomas Howard, Vice-Admiral of the Fleet, 
with some few other ships, set sail also, beating off and on 
before the mouth of the Bay ; but the General, and most of 
the Fleet kept their anchors still. 

The tide being far spent, loth to be driven again to the 
leeward of the Fleet, and to endanger another cable, and 
perchance the ship itself on that shore, which was flat and 
near ; and the benefit of entering the Bay with the first, 
which was not the least consideration : I resolved to put 
into the mouth of the Bay as near to the enemy's fleet as I 
could without engaging fight, and there to cast anchor by 
them ; which I did accordingly. So that they made a shot 
or two at me ; but since I made no answer, they left off 
shooting. 

I was no sooner come to anchor, but the Generals set sail, 
and the rest of the Fleet ; and bare directly towards me, 
where they also anchored. 

It was now late ere the Flag of " Council !" was shewn in 
my Lord Admiral's ship ; whither my Lord of Essex and 
the rest of tlie Officers repaired ; and there it was resol\ ed, 



84 TllK RaIXDOW fights 17 GALLEYS AT ONXE. \^.;\ 



. Vere. 
606. 



the next mornin<:^, with the tide to enter the Bay, and board 
the Spanish ships, if they abode it. And ships of ours were 
appointed to begin this service, some to keep the channel 
and midst of the Bay ; and others more floaty, to bear nearer 
the town to intercept the shipping that sliould retire that 
way, and hinder the galleys from beating on the lianks of 
our great ships. 

I was not allotted with my ship to any special service or 
attendance. My desire was great, having till that time been 
a stranger to actions at sea, to appear willing to embrace 
the occasions that offered themselves ; and therefore wound 
my ship up to her anchor, to be the more ready to set sail in 
the morning with the beginning of the flood. 

The Spanish ships set sail, and made to the bottom of the 
Bay, rather driving than sailing ; our ships following as fast 
as they could. 

As the Spanish ships loosed from their anchors and made 
from us ; their galleys, seventeen in number, under the favour 
[cover] of the town, made towards us ranged in good order. 
My ship (as before said) was floaty, stored with ordnance, 
and proper for that service ; which made me hasten towards 
them, without staying for any company. Indeed, my readi- 
ness was such, by reason of my riding with my anchor a-pike 
\taiit], that no other ship could come near me by a great 
distance. So I entered fight with them alone, and so galled 
them with my ordnance, which was cannon and demi-cannon, 
that they gave back, keeping still in order and in fight with 
me, drawing as near the town as they could : and with 
purpose, as I thought, as our ships thrust further into the 
Bay, to have fallen upon our smaller ships in the tail of the 
whole Fleet ; and having made a hand with them, so to have 
put to the seaward of us the better to annoy us, and save 
themselves from being locked up. 

Wherein to prevent them, I made toward the shore, still 
sounding with our leads till the ordnance of the town might 
reach me, and I the shore, with mine. Insomuch as I put 
them from under the town, and took certain ships which rode 
there at anchor forsaken of their men ; and followed them, 
continuing fight till they came under the Fort of the 
Punthal : where, thwart the bottom of the Bay, which was 
not broad, lay their four great ships, with a pretty distance 



Sir F. Vcre. 
? 1606, 



"1 The four Galleons are abandoned. 85 



betwixt them, spreading the breadth of the channel, and 
at an anchor; and were now in hot fight of ordnance with 
our Fleet. 

I was nearer Punthal and the shore of Calis by much, 
than any ship of the Fleet, and further advanced into the 
Bay. So that now growing within shot of the fort which lay 
on my right hand ; and in like distance to the galleons on the 
left hand, and having the galleys ahead of me, betwixt them 
all, I was plied with shot on all sides very roundly: yet I resolved 
to go on, knowing I had good seconds [support] and that 
"many hands would make light work." But my company, 
either wiser or more afraid than myself, on a sudden, un- 
locked by me, let fall the anchor ; and by no means, would 
be commanded or intreated to weigh it again. 

In the meantime. Sir Walter Raleigh came upon my 
left side, with his ship, and a very little ahead of me, cast 
his anchor ; as did also the Generals, and as many of the 
Fleet as the channel would bear : so that the shooting of 
ordnance was great ; and they held us good talk, by reason 
their ships lay thwart with their broadsidestoward us, and most 
of us, right ahead, so that we could use but our chasing pieces. 

I sent my boat aboard Sir Walter Raleigh, to fasten a 
hawse to wind my ship, which was loosed soon after my boat 
was put off. 

About me, the galleons let slip cable at the hawse, and 
with the topsails wended and drew towards the shore on the 
left hand of the Bay ; and the Indian Fleet with the rest of 
the shipping did the like, more within the Bay. 

It was no following of them with our great ships [whicli 
were too deep in the water] ; and therefore I went aboard my 
Lord of Essex, whose ship lay towards that side of the 
channel, to see what further orders would be given. 

At my coming aboard, the galleons were run on ground 
near the shore ; and their men, some in their boats, began to 
forsake their ships. 

I was then bold to say to my Lord of Essex, that " it was 
high time to send his small shipping to board them : for 
otherwise they would be fired by their own men." Which 
his Lordship found reasonable, and presently sent his 
directions accordingly. And in the meantime, sent Sir 
William COxXstable with some long-boats full of soldiers; 



86 5 REGIMENTS (2,000 men) LAND AT PuNTIIAL, [Ji]!'^] 

which his Lordship had towed at his stern, since the first 
emharking, to have landed at the Caletta. 

But notwithstanding he made all haste possible, before he 
could get to the galleons, two of them were set on fire ; and 
the other two, by this means saved and taken, were utterly 
forsaken of their men, who retired through the fens, to Puerto 
de Santa Maria. 

The Spanish Fleet thus set on ground, the prosecution of 
that victory was committed to, and willingly undertaken b}^, 
the sea forces by a principal Officer of the Fleet. 

And because longer delay would increase the difficulty of 
landing our forces, by the resort of more people to Calls, it 
was resolved forthwith to attempt the putting of our men on 
shore; and to that end, commandment was given that all 
men appointed for that purpose should be embarked in the 
long-boats : and that my Lord of Essex should lirst land 
with those men which could be disembarked ; and then my 
Lord Admiral to second [support] , and repair to the General, 
who, the better to be known, would put out his fiag in his 
boat. 

The troops that were first to land, were the regiments of 
the General, m}- own, and those of Sir Christopher 
Blunt, Sir Thomas Gerrard, and Sir Conniers Clifford. 

On the right hand, in a even front, with a competent distance 
betwixt the boats, were ranged the two regiments first named ; 
the other three on the left : so that e\'ery regiment and com- 
pany of men weresorted, togetherwith their Colonels and chief 
officers in nimble pinnaces, some in the head of the boats, 
some at the stern, to keep good order. The General himself 
with his boat, in which it pleased him to have me attend him, 
and some other boats full of Gentlemen Adventurers and 
choice men to attend his person, rowed a pretty distance 
before the rest : whom, at the signal given with a drum from 
his boat, the rest were to follow according to the measure 
and time of the sound of the said drum, which they were to 
observing in the dipping of the oars ; and to that end, there 
was a general silence as well of warlike instruments as other- 
wise. 

Which order being duly followed, the troops came, all 
together, to the shore betwixt Punthal and Calls ; and were 
landed, and several regiments embattled in an instant, with- 



Sir F. Vere 

? itoij. 



] TlIEY SEIZE THE ISTHMUS AT PuNTIIAL. 8/ 



out any encounter at all : the Spaniards, who, all the day 
before, shewed themselves with troops of horse and foot on 
that part, as resolved to impeach our landing, being clean 
retired towards the town. 

The number of the first disembarking was not fully 2,000 
men ; for divers companies of those regiments, that had put 
themselves into their ships again, could not be suddenly 
ready, by reason the boats to land them, belonged to other 
great ships. 

Calls on that side was walled, as it were, in a right line 
thwart the land, so as the sea, on both sides [ends] did beat 
on the foot of the wall : which strength, together with the 
populousness of the town (in which, besides the great con- 
course of Gentlemen and others, upon the discovery of our 
Fleet, and alarm of our ordnance ; there was an ordinary 
garrison of soldiers) had taken from us all thought of forcing 
it without batter3\ And therefore, being landed, we advanced 
with the troops to find a convenient place to encamp, till my 
Lord Admiral, with the rest of the forces, and the ordnance 
were landed. 

Being advanced with the troops half the breadth of the 
neck of the land, which in that place is about half a mile 
over, we might perceive that, all along the seashore on the 
other side of this neck of land, men on horseback and foot 
repaired to the town : which intercourse it was thought 
necessary to cut off. And, therefore, because the greatest 
forces of the enemy were to come from the land ; it was 
resolved on to lodge the better part of the army in the 
narrowest of the neck, which, near Punthal, is not broader 
than an ordinary harquebus shot. 

To which strait, Sir Conniers Clifford was sent with 
three regiments, vi2., his own, Sir Christopher Blunt's, 
and Sir Thomas Gerrard's, there to make a stand, to im- 
peach the Spaniards from coming to the town, till he received 
further orders for the quartering and lodging of his men. 

Which done, the Lord General, with the other two regi- 
ments and his Company of Adventurers, which was of about 
250 worthy Gentlemen; in all, not fully a 1,000 men, ad- 
vanced nearer the town, the better to discover the whole 
ground before it. 

And as we approached afar off, we might perceive the enemy 



88 Vere arranges for a fat.se attack. P' 



F. Vire. 

? 1606. 



standing in battle under the favour of the town, with cornets 
[standards of the cavalry] and ensigns [colours of the infantry] 
displayed ; thrusting out some loose horse and foot towards 
us, as it were to procure a skirmish. 

I, marking their fashion, conceived hope of a speedier 
gaining the town than we intended, and where then about; 
and said to his Lordship, at whose elbow I attended, that 
** those men he saw standing in battle before the town would 
shew and make way for us into the town that night, if they 
were well handled." And at the instant, I propounded the 
means : which was, to carry our troops as near and covertly 
as might be, towards the town; and to see, by some attempt, 
if we could draw them to fight further from the town, that 
we might send them back with confusion and disorder, and 
so have the cutting of the n in pieces in the town ditch, or 
enter it by the same way they did. 

His Lordship liked the project, and left the handling 
thereof to me. 

I presently caused the troops to march towards the other 
side of the neck of land, because the ordinary and ready way 
to the town lay on that side, low and embaN'ed to the foot of 
the hilly downs, so as troops might march very closely from 
the view of the town. 

Then I chose out 200 men, which were committed to thecon- 
ductof Sir John WiNGFiELD,arightvaliant Knight, with orders 
that he should march on roundly to the enemy where they 
stood in battle, and to charge and drive to their Battles the 
skirmishers : but if the enemy in gross proffered a charge, he 
should make a hasty and fearful retreat, to their judgement, 
the way he had gone, till he met with his seconds that 
followed him ; and then to turn short, and with the greatest 
speed and fury he could, to charge the enemy. 

The seconds were of 300 men, led, as I remember, by Sir 
Matthew Morgan, who were to follow the first troops at a 
good distance and so as both of them, till the enemy were 
engaged, might not at once appear to them ; and to advance 
with all diligence when the troops before them did retire, to 
meet them, charge the enemy, and enter the town with them 
pesle mesle \pcll nicll]. 

With the rest of the forces, his Lordship and I followed. 

The place served well for our purpose, being covert hid 



Sir F. V. 



1600:] 1 .000 Englishmen storm Cadiz. 89 

with trees] and of no advantage for their horsemen ; and the 
directions were so well observed, that the enemy were engaged 
in following our first troop before they discovered the rest. 
And so in hope and assurance of victory, being, be}ond ex- 
pectation, lively encountered ; they fled in disorder towards 
the town, so nearly followed of our men, that most of the 
horsemen forsook their horses, and saved themselves, some 
by the gates, others clambering over the walls, as did also 
their footmen ; our men following them at the heels to the 
very gate, which they found shut against them, and men 
standing over it and upon the walls to resist us. 

The ditch was very hollow but dry. Out of which was 
raised a massy rampire, with two round Half-Bulwarks, the 
one towards the one sea, the other towards the other ; for 
height and thickness, in their perfection, but not steeped and 
scarped : so as it was very mountable, and lay close to the old 
wall of the town, which somewhat overtopped it no higher 
than, in many places, a man might reach with his hand. 

To the top of the rampire, our men climbed ; who being, 
for the most part, old and experienced soldiers, of the Bands 
[regiments] I brought out of the Low Countries, boldly at- 
tempted to climb the wall, from which they beat with their 
shot, the defendants ; wanting no encouragements that good 
example of the chiefs could give them, the General himself 
being as forward as any. 

Whilst it was hard stroven and fought on that side, I sent a 
Captain and countryman [of tlie same county, Essex] of mine, 
called Upsher, with some few men alongst the ditch, to see 
what guard was held along the wall towards the Bay-ward ; 
and whether any easier entrance might be made that way or 
not, willing him to bring or send me word : which he did 
accordingly, though the messenger came not unto me. 

He found so slender a guard, that he entered the town with 
those few men he had ; which the enemy perceiving, lied 
from the walls, and our men entered as fast on the other 
side. 

My Lord of Essex was one of the first that got over the 
walls, followed by the soldiers as the place would give them 
leave ; and such was their fury, being once entered, that as 
they got in scatteringly, so they hasted towards the town, 
without gathering [intoj any strong and orderly body of men 



90 The scattered ftgiitixg inside Cadiz. p%^ \Zl 

as in such case is requisite, or once endeavouriniij to open the 
gate for more convenient entry for the rest of the troops. 

I, therefore, foreseeing what might ensue of this confusion, 
held the third body of the men together ; and with much ado, 
brake open the gate, by which 1 entered the town : and so 
keeping the way that leads from the gate towards the town, 
joined to my foot those men I met withal, scattered here and 
there. 

Not far from the Market Place, I found my Lord of Essex 
at a stand with 40 or 50 men ; whence I might see some 
few of the enemy in the Market Place, which made me ad- 
vance towards them, without attending any commandment : 
who, upon my approaching, retired themselves into the 
Town House ; whither I pursued them, broke open the gates, 
and, after good resistance made bythe Spaniards in the upper 
rooms of the House, became master of it. 

In which, I left a guard, and went down into the Market 
Place, and found my Lord of Essex at the Town House door. 
I humbly entreated his Lordship, to make that place secure, 
and give me leave to scour and assure the rest of the town : 
which I did accordingly. 

And though I was but slackly and slenderly followed, by 
reason of our men's greediness for spoil : yet such Spaniards 
as I found making head, and coming towards the Market 
Place, 1 drove back into the Fort St. Philip and the Abbey 
of St. Francis. 

Those of the Abbey yielded, to the number of 200 Gentle- 
men and others ; and being disarmed were put into a chapel ; 
and there left guarded. Those of St. Philip, it being now in 
the evening, cried to us that " in the morning, they would 
render the place." Before which also having put a 
guard : and understanding by some prisoners that there was 
no other place of strength but the Old Town near the 
Market Place ; I repaired to my Lord of Essex, whom I 
iound in the Market Place, and the Lord Admiral with 
him. 

And after I had made report upon what terms things stood, 
and where I had been : I went to the said Old Town to visit 
the guards which were commanded by Sir Edward Conway, 
with part of the forces landed with my Lord Admiral ; and 
Irom thence, to that part of the town where we entered. 



Sir F. Vere. 
? 1606, 



]TlIE STUPIDITY OF SiR CoNXIERS CLIFFORD. 9I 



And thus all things in good assurance, I returned to the 
Market Place ; where the rest of the forces were, being held 
together to be readily employed upon all occasions. 

Their Lordships went up to the Town House, and there 
gave GOD thanks for the victory: and, afterwards, all wounded 
and bloody as he was, yet undressed [i.e., his wounds], gave 
the honour of knighthood to Sir Samuel Bagnall, for his 
especial merit and valour in that day's service. 

The loss was not very great on either side : for as the 
Spanish troops that stood ordere I without the walls, got into 
the town confusedly and disorderly before we could mingle with 
them ; so everyone, as he was counselled by fear or courage, 
provided for his own safet}-, the most flying to the Old Town 
and Castle. 

Those that made head after the first entrance, being 
scattered here and there; our men as they followed with 
more courage than order, so encountered them in the like 
scattering manner, falling straight to handstrokes : so that it 
seemed rather an inward tumult and town fray than a fight 
of so mighty nations. 

The next day, the Old Town and the Fort of St. Philip 
were delivered unto us : and the people that were in them, 
except some principal prisoners, were suffered to depart ; with 
great courtesy shewed, especially to the women of the better 
sort. There went out of the town, Gentlemen and others, 
likely men to bear arms, betwixt 4,000 and 5,000. The 
brunt of this exploit was borne with less than 1,000 men. 

We could have no help of Sir Conniers Clifford ; who 
mistaking his directions, went, with his troops to the bridge 
called Punto Zuarro, about three leagues distant: and my Lord 
Admiral, notwithstanding his Lordship used all possible dili- 
gence in the landing of his men, arrived not till we were, in 
a manner, full masters of the town. 

It was long disputed whether the town should be held or 
not. I offered with 4,000 men, to defend it till Her Majesty's 
pleasure might be known. The Lord of Essex seemed to 
affect to remain there in person : which the rest of the 
Council would not assent to, but [determined] rather to 
abandon the town and set it on fire. 

Which we did, about fourteen days after the taking of it. 

I got there, three prisoners worth 10,000 ducats [;^j,ooo = 



92 Sailors are cheated of the Tndlvn Fleet, [fy 



ere. 
6u6. 



-^15,000 now]. One of which was a Churchman [ecclesiastic], 
and President of the Contractation of the Indies : the other 
two, were ancient Knights, called Don Pedro de Herera 
and Don Geronimo de Avallos. 

In the meantime, whether of design and set purpose or 
negligence, tiie Indian Fleet, being unseized on by those who 
had undertaken it ; some of the prisoners of the town dealt 
[ncij^otiakd] with the Generals to have those ships and their 
lading set at ransom. Whereupon, they had conference 
with the Generals, divers times, till the said ships were set 
on fire by the Spaniards themselves : in which was lost, by 
their own confession, to the worth of 12,000,000 [i.e., ducats = 
;^3,6oo,ooo = about ;^i8,ooo,ooo noia] of merchandise. 

The troops being embarked, the Generals met and consulted 
upon their next exploit. It was long insisted on, to put to 
sea, and lie to intercept the West Indian Fleet, which com- 
monly, at that time of the year, arriveth on the coast of Spain. 
But the scarceness of our victuals overthrew that purpose: 
and resolution was taken to sail towards England ; and on 
our way to visit the ports of that coast, and so to spoil and 
destroy the shipping. 

And so, first, we made towards Ferrol, a good town and 
Bishop's see of Portugal [which country at this time belonged to 
Spain see Vol. III. p. 13] : to which, by water, there was no 
safe entrance for our shipping ; the town lying better than a 
league from the sea, served with a narrow creek, though a 
low and marshy bottom. 

For the destroying of such shipping as might be in this 
creek, as also for the wasting of the country adjoining, and 
the town itself, which though it were great and populous, 
was unfenced with walls ; it was thought meet to land the 
forces in a bay, some three leagues distant from the town, 
and so to march thither. 

Which was done ; the town forsaken by the inhabitants, 
was taken by us. Our men being sent into the country, 
brought good store of provisions for the refreshing of the 
army. The artillery we found, was conveyed into our ships. 
And we, after five or six days' stay, returned to our ships, 
the way we came. 

The regiments embattled marched at large, in a triple 
front, in right good order; which was so much the more 



^'■■/•y^;^;] The return of the Expedition. 93 

strange and commendable, the men, for the most part, being 
new : and once ranged, having Httle further help of directions 
from the high Officers ; who were all unmounted, and for the 
great heat, not able to perform on foot the ordinary service 
in such cases belonging to their charges. 

The troops embarked, we made towards the Groine 
[Corunna], and looked into the Bay, but the wind blowing 
from the sea, it was thought dangerous to put in, and there- 
fore, victuals daily growing more scant so that in some ships 
there was already extreme want, it was resolved to hasten to 
our coast : and so, about the midst of August, we arrived in 
the Downs, near Sandwich. 

My Lord of Essex having taken land in the West parts 
[of England], to be with more speed at the Court, left orders 
with me, for the dissolving of the land forces and shipping; 
and sending back of the English forces into the Low 
Countries. 

At this parting, there arose much strife betwixt the 
mariners and the soldiers, about the dividing of the spoil. 
For the mariners, envying and repining at the soldiers, who, 
as it fell out, had gotten most, purloined and detained their 
chests and packs of baggage, perforce ! insomuch that, to 
satisfy the soldiers, I went aboard my Lord Admiral to 
desire of his Lordship redress ; who promised to take order 
therein. 

But some other principal Officers of the Fleet shewing 
themselves more partial, asked me, " Whether the poor 
mariners should have nothing ? " 

To which, I answered, " There was no reason they should 
pill the poor soldiers, who had fought and ventured for what 
little they had : and that the mariner's hope (having so rich 
a booty as the Indian Fleet at their mercy) was more to be 
desired than the trash the landsmen had got ; so as they had 
none to blame for their poverty, but their Officers and their 
bad fortune." 

This answer was taken to the heart, and is not forgotten 
to this hour [ ? 16061 ; of which I feel the smart. 

The troops dissolved [disbanded] ; I went to Court, and there 
attended the most part of the winter. 




94 Lord Mouxtjov made Lif.ut.-Gexeral. [^"'/•y"! 



The Islands l^oyage. 

|N THE year of our Lord 1597, being the next year 
after the journey of CaHs, another journey was 
made by the Earl of Essex to the coast of Spain 
and the Islands {the Azores], with a royal navy, as 
well of Her Majesty's own shipping as of her best 
merchants ; to which also was joined a good number of the 
States' 'ships, in all about 140 ; with an army of 7,000 or 
8,000 landsmen, as well voluntary as pressed : and commonly 
called the Islands Voyage. 

To which I was called, by Her Majesty's commandment, 
to attend his Lordship : as also to deal with the States, that 
besides the shipping which they were to send with Her 
Majesty's Fleet by virtue of the contract, they would suffer 
1,000 of her subjects in their pay, to be transported by me, to 
her said General and Fleet, for that service. 

Which having obtained, I hastened into England, and 
found my Lord of Essex at Sandwich, and his Fleet in readi- 
ness, anchored in the Downs. 

It was early in the morning, and his Lordship was in bed, 
when I was brought to him. He welcomed me, with much 
demonstration of favour, and with many circumstances of 
words. 

First he told me, " My Lord Mountjoy was to go as his 
Lieutenant-General (not of his own choice, but thrust upon 
him by the Queen), before me in place ; yet that I should 
retain my former office of Lord Marshal : which as it had 
been ever in English armies, next the General in authority ; 
so he would lay wholly the execution of that office upon me. 
And as for the Lieutenant-General ; as he had a title without 
an office, so the honour must fall in effect upon them that 
did the service," With much more speech to this purpose, 
all tending to persuade me, that it was not by his working; 
and to take away the discouragement I might conceive of it. 

I answered that " I had partly understood, before my 
coming out of the Low Countries, of my Lord Mountjov's 
going as Lieutenant-General ; so that I had forethought and 
resolved what to do. For though I was sensible, as became 
mc, who saw no cause in myself of this rcculement [pidiing 



Sir F. Vere. 
1 1606, 



] Yere will not again serve under Essex. 95 

hack] and dis,2^race ; yet my affections having been always sub- 
ject to the rules of obedience, since it was my Prince's action 
and that it could not be but that my Lord Mountjoy was 
placed there by Her Majesty's consent, my sincerity would 
not give me leave to absent myself, and colour my stay from 
this action with any feigned excuse : but counselled me to 
come over, both to obey my Lord Mountjoy, and respect 
him as his place [rank], which I had always much honoured, 
required ; much more his Lordship, who was General to us 
both. Though I was not so ignorant of his Lordship's power 
as to doubt that my Lord Mountjoy or any subject of 
England could be thrust upon him, without his desire and 
procurement. 

"That therefore, as I had good cause to judge that his 
Lordship had withdrawn much of his favour from me, so I 
humbly desired his Lordship that, as by a retrenchment of 
the condition I was to hold in this Journey, I held it rather a 
resignment to his Lordship again, of the honour he had given 
me the last year (so far as concerned my particular respect 
to his Lordship, unsought for by me, than a service to him) ; 
so, hereafter, he would be pleased not to use me at all in any 
action, wherein he was to go Chief." 

He would seem to take these speeches of mine as proceed- 
ing rather of a passionate discontentment, than of a resolution 
framed in cold blood ; and that it would in time be digested. 
And so, without any sharpness on his part, the matter rested. 

The purpose and design of this Journey was to destroy the 
Fleet that lay in Ferrol by the Groine [Corunna] and upon the 
rest of the Spanish coasts; and to that end to land our forces, 
if we saw cause : as also to intercept the [Spanish WestJ 
Indian Fleet. 

Part of our land forces were shipped at the Downs ; and we 
did put into Weymouth, to receive those which were to meet 
us there. 

In that place, the Generalcalled myself and Sir Walter 
Raleigh before him; and for that he thought there remained 
some grudge of the last year's falling out, would needs have 
us shake hands : which we both did, the willinger because 
there had nothing passed betwixt us that might blemish 
reputation. 

From thence, we went to Plymouth ; and ^o towards Spain, 



o6 The Fleet is scattered cy a storm. [^'?^'T6a6'. 

where, in the height [latitude] of 46° or 47°, we were encoun- 
tered with a storm ; against which the whole navy strove 
obstinately, till the greater part of the ships were distressed: 
amongst which, were the General's, mine, Sir Walter 
Raleigh's, and Sir George Gary's. My mainmast was rent 
in the partners [sockets] to the very spindle, which was 
eleven inches deep ; insomuch as, to avoid the endangering 
of the ship, the Captain and Master were earnest with me, 
to have cast it overboard : which I would not assent unto, 
but setting men to work, brought it standing to Plymouth ; 
and there strengthened it, so that it served the rest of the 
voyage. 

The Lord Thomas Howard, Vice-Admiral, with some few 
ships, got within sight of the North Cape [1 Finnistcre] : 
where, having plied off and on three or four days, doubting 
[fearing] that the rest of the Fleet was put back, because it 
appeared not ; he returned also to our coast. 

Gur stay at Plymouth was about a month : more through 
want of wind than unwillingness or unreadiness of our ships, 
which, with all diligence were repaired. 

In the meantime, our victuals consuming : it was debated 
in council, Whether the Journey could be performed or not, 
without a further supply of victuals ? It was judged ex- 
tremely dangerous ; and, on the other side, as difficult to 
supply the army with victuals : which having to come from 
London and the east parts of the realm, and to be brought 
up at adventure, there being no sufficient store in readiness, 
would hardly be ministered unto us so fast as we should 
consume them. And therefore, it was first resolved to 
discharge all the land forces ; saving the 1,000 I brought out 
of the Low Countries, with the shipping they were embarked 
in. 

Then it was further debated in council, How to employ the 
Fleet ? the purpose of landing the army at the Groine 
being dissolved. 

A West Indian Voyage was propounded ; whereupon every 
one in particular being to give his advice, it was assented to 
by them all. Only myself was of opinion, it could not stand 
with the honour, profit, and safety of Her Majesty and the 
State : the Fleet iDcing so slenderly provided of forces and 
provisions, that nothing could be exploited [achieved] there 



^'%^- XZt^ The Fleet sets forth again. 97 

answerable to the expectation that would be generally 
conceived. And yet, in the meantime, through the want of 
Her Majesty's Royal Navy and other principal shipping, 
with the choice Commanders both for sea and land, the 
State might be endangered by an attempt made by the 
Spaniards upon our own coast : whom we certainly knew to 
have then, in readiness, a great power of sea and land forces 
in the north parts of Spain. 

Things thus handled, the Lord General posted to the 
Court. 

After his return, no more speech was had of the Indian 
Voyage ; but a resolution taken to attempt the firing of the 
Fleet at Ferrol and on the rest of the coast of Spain, and to 
intercept the [Spanish West] Indian Fleet, as in our discre- 
tions we should think fittest, either when we came to the 
coast of Spain or by going to the Islands. 

With this resolution, we set forwards, directing our course 
to the North Cape, with reasonable wind and weather; yet the 
Fleet scattered : as, in a manner, all the squadron of Sir 
Walter Raleigh, and some ships of the other squadrons 
that followed him ; who, for a misfortune in his mainyard, kept 
more to seaward. 

The Lord General, whilst he and the rest of the Fleet lay 
off and on before the Cape (attending Sir Walter Raleigh's 
coming, who with some special ships had undertaken this 
exploit of firing the Fleet), suddenly laid his ship by the lee : 
which, because it was his order when he would speak with 
other ships, I made to him, to know his Lordship's pleasure. 

He spake to me from the poop, saying I should attend and 
have an eye to his ship : in which at that instant, there was 
an extreme and dangerous leak, though he would not have 
me nor any other of the Fleet know it. 

Which, leak being stopped, he directed his course along 
the coast southward ; and, about ten leagues from the Groine, 
called a council, in which it was resolved to give over the 
enterprise of Ferrol (which as it was difficult to have been 
executed on a sudden, so now that we had been seen by the 
country, it was held impossible) : and not to linger upon the 
coast of Spain, but to go directly to the Islands, the time of 
the year now growing on, that the Indian Fleet usually 
returned. 

£.\'G. Gar. VII. /y 



98 Sir \V. Raleigh's disobedience of orders. [%^-y; 



ere. 
606. 



And to advertise Sir Walter Raleigh, divers pinnaces 
were sent out, that, till such a day, the wind and weather 
serving, the General would stay for him, in a certain height 
[latitude], and thence would make directly for the Azores. 
At this council, his Lordship made [wrote] a despatch for 
England. 

I do not well remember where Sir Walter Raleigh and 
the rest of the Fleet met us; but, as I take it, about Flores 
and Corvo, the westerliest islands of the Azores : where we 
arrived in seven or eight days after we had put from the 
coast of Spain. 

We stayed there some few days; and took in some refresh- 
ing of water and victuals, such as they could yield : which 
being not so well able to supply us, as the other islands, it 
was resolved in council to put back to them ; and the squad- 
rons, for the more commodity of the Fleet, were appointed unto 
several islands. 

The General with his squadron were to go to Fayal ; the 
Lord Thomas with his squadron, and I with my ship, were 
to go to Graciosa ; and Sir Walter Raleigh with his, 
either to Pico or St, George. 

But Sir Walter Raleigh (whether of set purpose or by 
mistake, I leave others to judge), making with his squadron, 
more haste than the rest of the Fleet, came to Fayal afore us, 
landed his men, and received some loss by the Spaniards 
that kept the top of the hill, which commanded both the 
haven and the town. 

The General with the rest of the Fleet, came to an anchor 
before the island ; and hearing of Sir Walter Raleigh's 
landing and loss, was highly displeased, as he had cause : it 
being directly and expressly forbidden, upon pain of death, 
to land forces without orders from the General ; and there 
wanted not [those] about my Lord, that the more to incense 
him, aggravated the matter. 

Seeing the Spanish ensign upon the hill, his Lordship pre- 
pared to land with all haste ; and so, about an hour before 
sunset, came into the town. 

A competent number of men were given to Sir Oliver 
Lambert to guard the pass.-iges ; and then it was consulted 
how to go on with the enterprise of forcing them. 

They were entrenched on the top of the hill, to the number 



^V'TS^:! Tr[ED & CONVICTED, RaLEIGH IS PARDONED. 99 

of 200 ; which hill was so steep, that it seemed artillery 
could not be drawn towards the said trench. 

The night growing on, I desired his Lordship to give me 
leave to go up to discover the place : which his Lordship 
assented to. So taking 200 soldiers, I sent forwards ; the 
young Earl of Rutland, Sir Thomas German, and divers 
other Gentlemen Adventurers accompanying me. 

At our coming to the top of the hill, finding no watch in 
their trenches, we entered them, and possessed the hill : 
where we found some of our men slain by the Spaniards. 
The hill was abandoned as we supposed in the beginning of 
the night, unseen or undiscovered by us or those that were 
placed at the foot of the hill. 

We were all very sorry they so escaped, as was also the 
Lord General : for there was no following or pursuing them 
in that mountainous island. 

The Captain and Officers that landed with Sir Walter 
Raleigh were presently committed : and before our depar- 
ture thence, Sir Walter Raleigh was called to answer for 
himself, in a full assembly of the Chief Officers both by sea 
and land, in the General's presence. Where, every one 
being to deliver his opinion of the crime, it was grievously 
aggravated by the most. For my part, no man shewed less 
spleen against him than myself. 

The General's goodness would not suffer him to take any 
extreme course : but with a wise and noble admonition, for- 
gave the offence ; and set also at liberty the Captains that 
had been committed. 

After the Fleet had taken the refreshing that island could 
afford, which was in some good measure, we put from thence : 
and for three days, were plying off and on betwixt Graciosa and 
the island of Terceira, the ordinary way of the Indian Fleet. 

In the meantime, certain were sent ashore by the General, 
at Graciosa, to draw from the inhabitants some portion of 
money and provisions, to redeem them from spoiling. 

They brought word to the General, in the afternoon, that 
from the island, a great ship was discovered on the road-way 
[track] from the Indies: but they being sent again, with 
some others, to make a full discovery ; at their return, which 
was sudden, it was found to be but a pinnace. 

I must confess, in this point I may be ignorant of some 



loo Four English & twenty Spanish siiirs. [ ? 1^6! 

particulars; because things were not done as they were wont, 
by council : or if they were, it was but of some few, to which 
I was not called. But, in all likelihood, there was wilful 
mistaking in some, to hinder us of that rich prey which GOD 
had sent, as it were, into our mouths. 

Howsoever it was, that same night, when it was dark, the 
General with the Fleet altered their course, and bare directly 
with the island of St. Michael ; as it was given out, to water 
[i.e., the bulk of the E}if;Ush Fled deliberately went out of the track 
of the Indian Fleet, twelve hours before its arrival]. 

A pinnace coming to me, in the Lord General's name, 
told me " it was his pleasure my ship and the Drcadnou^Jit, in 
which Sir Nicholas Parker was, should beat off and on 
betwixt the island of St. George and Graciosa : for that the 
Indian Fleet was expected." 'i^ht Rainbow in which was Sir 
William Monson, and the Garland, my Lord of Southamp- 
ton's ship, were to lie, by the like order, on the north part 
of Graciosa. Willing us, if we discovered any Fleet to follow 
them, and to shoot off, now and then, a piece of ordnance ; 
which should serve for a signal to the rest of the Fleet. 

This order, as I take it, was delivered us about ten of the 
clock at night. 

About midnight, or one of the clock, those of our ships 
might hear shooting, acording to this direction, rather in the 
manner of signal than of a fight, toward that part of the 
island [Graciosa] where the other two ships were to guard. 
This, as we afterwards understood, was from tht RainboWy 
which fell in the midst of the Indian Fleet ; whom in their 
[Rainbow's] long-boat, they hailed, and by the Spaniards' own 
mouths, knew whence they were : who held them in scorn, and 
in a great bravery, told them what they were ladened withal. 

The wind was very small [light], so as it scarce stirred our 
ships ; but we directed our course as directly as we could, 
and so continued all night. The morning was very foggy 
and misty, so that we could not discover far : but still we 
might hear the shooting of ordnance, when we listened for it. 

About eight or nine of the clock before noon, it began to 
clear: and then we might see a Fleet of twenty sails, as we 
judged some five or six leagues off; which was much about 
halfway betwixt us and Terceira. 

The wind began a little to strengthen, and we to wet our 



S'%^- y^^;] Vere, a good watch dog, outside Axgra. ioi 

sails to improve the force of it ; and somewhat we ^ot nearer 
the Spanish Fleet : more through their stay, to gather them- 
selves together ; than our good footmanship. 

All this while, the Rainbow and Garland followed the Fleet 
so near, that they might to our judgements, at pleasure have 
engaged them to fight. But their Fleet being of eight good 
galleons, the rest merchants' [ships] of good force : though 
the booty were of great inticement, it might justly seem 
hard to them to come by it ; and so they only waited on 
them, attending greater strength, or to gather up such as 
straggled from the rest. 

The Garland overtook a little frigate of the King's, laden 
only with cochineal ; which she spoiled, and I found aban- 
doned and ready to sink : yet those of my ship took out of 
her, certain small brazen pieces. 

The Indian Fleet keeping together in good order, sailed 
still before us about two leagues ; and so was got into the 
haven of Terceira [Angra, see Vol. III. p. 444], into the which, 
they towed their ships, with the help of those of the island, 
before we could come up to them. 

It was evening when we came thither, and the wind so 
from the land, as with our ships there was no entering. 

It pleased my Lord of Southampton and the rest of the 
Captains to come aboard me ; where it was resolved to get 
as near the mouth of the haven as we could with our ships, 
and to man our boats well, with direction in as secret 
manner as they could, to attempt the cutting of the cables of 
the next [nigJiest] ships : by which means, the wind, as is 
foresaid, blowing from the land, might drive them upon us. 
This, though it were a dangerous and desperate enterprise, 
was undertaken : but being discovered, the boats returned 
without giving any further attempt. 

The same night, we despatched a small pinnace of an 
Adventurer, to St. Michael, to give the Lord General advice 
where he should find the Indian Fleet : and us to guard 
them from coming out. 

For we had determined to attend his Lordship's coming, 
before the said haven : which I accordingly performed with 
my ship, though forsaken of the rest [the Dreadnought, 
Rainbow, and Garland] , the very same night ; I know not 
whether for want of fresh water, or what other occasion. 



I02 For once, Englishmen badly led, dare not! ['; \ 



Vere. 

606. 



Three or four days after, his Lordship came with the Fleet. 
Who sending into the haven, two nimble pinnaces to view 
how the Fleet lay ; upon report that they were drawn so far 
into the haven, and were so well defended from the land 
with artillery, that no attempt could be made on them, with- 
out extreme hazard, and the wind blowing still from the land 
that no device of fire could work any good effect, and all 
provisions growing scant in the Fleet, especially fresh water : 
his Lordship gave over that enterprise, and put with the 
whole Fleet from thence to St. Michael. 

The General had resolved to land in this island ; and 
therefore called a Council to advise on the manner. In 
which, it was concluded that the greatest part of the Fleet 
should remain before St. Michael [? the town of Ribcira 
Grande] to amuse the enemy ; and that the soldiers, in the 
beginning of the evening, should be embarked in the least 
vessels, taking with us the barges and long-boats, and so 
in the night, make towards Villa Franca, which was some 
four or five leagues off. His Lordship, and the rest of the 
chief Officers of the land forces, embarking with him in a 
small ship, left the sea Officers before St. Michael. 

The next day, about evening, we were come near Villa 
Franca. I moved his Lordship, to give me leave, in a boat, 
to discover the shore and best landing-place ; whilst his 
Lordship gave orders for the embarking the men into the 
other boats: which his Lordship granted, and I performed 
accordingly. So as, in due time, his Lordship was adver- 
tised of it, to his contentment ; and proceeded to the landing 
of his forces upon the sandy shore before the town : where 
I could discover none to give impeachment, but a few 
straggling fellows which now and then gave a shot. 

His Lordship, as his fashion was, would be of the first to 
land; and I, that had learned me of his disposition, took 
upon me the care of sending the boats after him. The 
seege [ ? surf] was such that few of the men landed with 
their furniture [arms;, &c.] dry. His Lordship himself took 
great pains to put his men in order: and, for that I per- 
ceived he took delight to do all, in good manners and respect 
I gave the looking on. 

In the meantime, some that were sent towards the town 



^VTS:] Villa Franca, on St. Michael, taken. 103 

to discover, gave the alarm that the enemy were at hand : 
and I told his Lordship it were good to send presently some 
good troops to possess the town of Villa Franca, before the 
enemy got thither. 

His Lordship willed me to take with me 200 men, and to 
do with them what I thought good myself. I took so many 
of those men that were readiest, and bade them follow 
me : amongst which, were some Gentlemen of good account, 
as Sir John Scot and Sir William Evers, which accom- 
panied me. 

I went directly to the town, which I found abandoned : 
and leaving some guard in the Church which stood upon 
the Market Place, I passed somewhat further towards St. 
Michael ; but neither seeing nor hearing news of any enemy 
thereabouts, I returned to the town. To which his Lordship 
was come, with the rest of his army, making in all, about 
2,000 soldiers. Adventurers, Officers and their trains : all 
which were orderly quartered in the town, where we found 
good store of wheat. 

His Lordship having thus gotten landing, advised with 
Council, Whether it were better to march to St. Michael, 
spoil that town, and water the Fleet there ; or to send for the 
rest of the Fleet ? 

The difficulties in going to St. Michael were the rough- 
ness and unevenness of the way, being, for the most part, 
stony hills, in which a few men, well placed, might resist 
and impeach the passage to many ; that the people and 
goods of the town would be withdrawn into the Castle, 
which was held by a garrison of Spaniards, and not to 
be forced without battery and much loss of men and time; 
that till it were gotten, there was no watering in that part, 
and our general necessity could endure no delay. It was 
therefore resolved to send for the Fleet to Villa Franca. 

In the meantime, news came from the Fleet, that a West 
Indian [ ? East Indian^ carrack, and a ship were come into 
St. Michael, and rode near the Castle. 

His Lordship presently determined to go thither himself, 
for the better ordering of things. He took my Lord of 
MoUNTjOY with him ; and by an especial Commission under 
his hand, committed to my command the land and sea 
forces at Villa Franca. 



I04 Vere is in charge of the rearguard, [^■'■/•ygoe; 

Before his Lordship could arrive at St. Michael, the 
carrack had run herself on ground under the Castle : and the 
other ship (which was not great), laden with sugar and Brazil 
commodities, had been taken by Sir Walter Raleigh. 

The third day, his Lordship returned, with the Fleet, to 
Villa Franca, and gave orders presently to fall a watering. 
There was plenty of water ; but the shipping of it into 
boats was tedious and troublesome : for, by reason of the 
greatness of the seege [ ? surf] , we were fain, by wading and 
swimming, to thrust the barrels into the sea where the boats 
floated. This made the work the longer. 

In the meantime our victuals consumed, and grew low ; 
though we got some little refreshing from the land : which 
made us content ourselves with the less water. 

After some four or five days watering, his Lordship gave 
order to embark the army ; which he began early in the 
morning, and continued all the day : for the seege going 
high, the boats took in their men at a place where but one 
boat could lie on at once ; which, together with the distance 
to the shipping, made the less riddance and despatch. 

His Lordship, for the better expedition, was most of the 
time at the water's side : sending still to me for men from 
the town, as he was ready to embark them. 

About five of the clock, in the afternoon, the sentinels that 
stood on the top of the steeple, discerned troops of men on 
their way to St. Michael. I sent up to the steeple, Sir 
William Constable, and some other (lentlemen then about 
me, to see what they could discern : who all agreed that 
they saw troops, and as they guessed some ensigns [colours]. 
I willed Sir William Constable to hasten to his Lordship, 
and tell him what he had seen. 

I had yet remaining with me about 500 soldiers. Of these 
I sent out Oo, whereof 30 Shot were to go as covertly as they 
could to a chapel, a great musket shot from the town, on 
the way the enemy was discovered ; with orders, upon the 
enemy's approach, to give their volley; and suddenly and in 
haste to retire to the other 30 that were placed betwixt them 
and the town ; and then all together, in as much haste and 
shew of fear as they could, to come to the town ; where I 
stood ready with tlie rest of the men in three troops, to receive 
them, and to repulse and chase those that should follow them. 



^'S^'Td^J Early notice of smoking with a tite. 105 

This order given, my Lord of Essex, with the Earl of 
Southampton and some other Lords and Gentlemen, came 
to the Market Place : where he found me with the troops. 
His Lordship inquired of me, " What I had seen ?" 
I said, " I had seen no enemy ; but what others had seen, 
his Lordship had heard by their own report : and might, if it 
pleased his Lordship, send to see if the sentinel continued to 
affirm the same." 

His Lordship made no answer, but called for tobacco, 
seeming to give but small credence to this alarm ; and so on 
horseback, with those Noblemen and Gentlemen on foot 
beside him, took tobacco, whilst I was telling his Lordship 
of the men I had sent forth, and orders I had given. 

Within some quarter of an hour, we might hear a good 
round volley of shot betwixt the 30 men I had sent to the 
chapel, and the enemy; which made his Lordship cast his 
pipe from him, and listen to the shooting, which continued. 

I told his Lordship, it were good to advance with the troops 
to that side of the town where the skirmish was, to receive 
our men, which his Lordship liked well ; and so we went at 
a good round pace, expecting to encounter our men : who 
unadvisedly in lieu of retiring in disorder, maintained the 
place ; which the enemy perceiving, and supposing some 
greater troops to be at hand to second, held aloof with his 
main force (for the highway to the town lay by the chapel, 
and there was no other passage for a troop by reason of the 
strong fence and inclosure of the fields), but sent out light 
men to skirmish. 

Thus perceiving that our men held our ground, we stayed 
our troops in covert in the end of two lanes leading directly 
to the highway. 

Those of the island, as we were certainly informed, could 
make [outj 3,000 fighting men, well armed and appointed ; 
besides the ordinary garrison of the Spaniards. Of that 
number, we supposed them ; because they had sufficient time 
to gather their strength together, and for that they came to 
seek us. And therefore as, on the one side, we were loth to 
discover our small number to them, unless they provoked us 
by some notable disorder, or necessity in the defence of our- 
selves : so we thought it not good to lessen our men by 
embarking of men, till the night was come, that silence and 



io6 The Fleet comes home anyhow. [ 



Sir F. Vere. 

1606. 



darkness might cover our retreat. And for these reasons, I 
opposed their heat that propounded to charge the enemy, 
and their haste that would needs have the men shipped 
without delay. 

In the beginning of the evening, which ended the skirmish, 
keeping our sentinels in view of the enemy, his Lordship 
began to embark some troops, and so continued, till about the 
last troop was put into the boat : his Lordship seeing all em- 
barked before he went aboard, but those forlorn men which 
made the last retreat, which were committed to Sir Charles 
Percy ; with whom, I embarked, without any impeachment 
of the enemy, or shew to have discovered our departure. 

His Lordship made the young Noblemen and some other 
principal Gentlemen, Knights ; as Sir Willl\m Evers, Sir 
Henry Dockwray, Sir William Brown, and a Dutch 
Gentleman that accompanied that Voyage in my ship. 

We were no sooner aboard, but that the wind blew a stiff 
gale, so as some were fain to forsake their anchors. 



And with this wind, we put for England ; which continuing 
vehement, drave us to the leeward of our course, towards the 
coast of Ireland. I got an extreme leak in my ship, which 
kept both my pumps going without intermission many days 
before I got to harbour ; wherewith my company were much 
wearied, and discouraged even to despair : which made me 
keep aloof from other ships, lest the hope of their own safety 
might make them neglect that of the ship. 

The Fleet kept no order at all, but every ship made the 
best haste home they could : which as it might have proved 
dangerous if the Spanish Fleet, which was then bound for our 
coast, had not been scattered by the same weather; so it was 
in some sort profitable to us. For some of our smaller 
shipping, which were driven most leeward towards the coast 
of Ireland, met with two or three Spanish ships, full of 
soldiers, which they took : by which, we not only understood, 
at our coming to Plymouth, their purpose to have landed at 
Falmouth, with 10,000 men ; but saw the instructions and 
orders of the sea fights, if they had met with us, which were 
so full of perfection, tliat I have ever since redoubted 
[anxiously csiimaicdj their sufficiency in sea cases. 



Sir F. Vere 
? 1606. 



:] Experienced soldiers sent to Ireland. 107 



The Fleet arriving thus weather-beaten at Ph'mouth, his 
Lordship posted to the Court ; leaving my Lord Thomas, now 
Earl of Suffolk [created July 21, 1603', my Lord Mountjoy, 
and the rest of the Officers there. And, shortly, came pro- 
vision of money, with Commission to the said Lords, Sir 
Walter Raleigh, and myself, to see the same issued and 
distributed by common advice, for the repairing, victualling, 
and sending about the Fleet to Chatham ; and the entertain- 
ing of the 1,000 men I had brought out of the Low Countries, 
which were then disposed along the coast of Cornwall, and, 
after, sent to Ireland. 

Which business despatched, I passed by post to London ; 
and near Mary-bone [Mnvylchonc] park, I met with Sir 
William Russell in his coach : who being my honourable 
friend (then newly returned from Ireland, where he had been 
Deputy), I 'alighted to salute him, with much duty and 
affection ; who stepping out of his coach, received me with 
the like favour. With whom, whilst I stood bareheaded, 
being in a sweat, I got cold : which held me so extremely, 
that lor three weeks after, I could not stir out of my lodging. 

I understood my Lord of Essex was at his house at Wan- 
stead, in great discontentment ; to whose Lordship I gave 
presently knowledge of my arrival, as also that I would for- 
bear to attend his Lordship till I had been at Court : which 
then I hoped would have been sooner than it fell out my sick- 
ness would permit. 

For I supposed, at my coming to Court, Her Majesty, after 
her most gracious manner, would talk and question with 
me concerning the late Journey : and though it pleased her 
always to give credit to the reports I made (which I never 
blemished with falsehood, for any respect whatsoever !) yet I 
thought this forbearance to see my Lord, would make my 
speech work more effectually. 

So soon then, as I was able to go abroad, I went to the 
Court, which was then at Whitehall ; and (because I would 
use nobody's help to give me access to Her Majesty, as also 
that I desired to be heard more publicly) I resolved to shew 
myself to Her Majesty, when she came into the garden : 
where so soon as she set her gracious eye upon me, she called 
me to her, and questioned with me concerning the Journey ; 
seeming greatly incensed against my Lord of Essex, laying 



loS Vere's noble vindication of Essex, pf*! 



Vere. 

606. 



tlie whole blame of the evil success of the journey on his 
Lordship, both for the not burning of the Fleet at Ferrol, 
and missing the [West] Indian Fleet. Wherein with the 
truth, I boldly justified his Lordship, with such earnestness, 
that my voice growing shrill, the standers by, which were 
many, might hear; for Her Majesty then walked: laying the 
blame freely on them that deserved it. 

And some, there present [probably Sir W. Raleigh], being 
called to confront me, were forced to confess the contrary of 
that they had delivered to Her Majesty; insomuch that I 
answered all objections against the Earl : wherewith Her 
Majesty, well quieted and satisfied, sat her down in the end 
of the walk, and calling me to her, fell into more particular 
discourse of his Lordship's humours and ambition ; all 
which she pleased then to construe so graciously, that before 
she left me, she fell into much commendation of him. Who, 
very shortly after, came to the Court. 

This office I performed to his Lordship, to the grieving and 
bitter incensing of the contrary party against me ; when not- 
withstanding I had discovered, as is aforesaid, in my recule- 
ment, his Lordship's coldness of affection for me ; and had 
plainly told my Lord himself, my own resolution (in which 
I still persisted) not to follow his Lordship any more in the 
wars : yet, to make as full return as I could, for the good 
favour the world supposed his Lordship bare me ; fearing more 
to incur the opinion of ingratitude, than the malice of any 
enemies, how great soever, which the delivery of truth could 
procure me. 




109 





The Government of Br telle. 

Stayed the winter followinc^ in England. 

In which time, m}^ Lord Sheffield making 
resignation of his Government of the Brielle 
into Her Majesty's hands; I was advised and 
encouraged by my good friends, to make means 
to Her Majesty for that charge: which it was 
long before I could hearken unto, having no 
friends to rely on. 
For as I had good cause to doubt {fcav^^ my Lord of Essex 
would not further me in that suit, so I was loth to have any- 
thing by his means, in the terms I then stood in with his 
Lordship ; much less by any other person's, that were known 
to be his opposers. 

Being still urged to undertake the suit, I began at length 
to take some better liking of it, and to guess there was 
some further meaning in it. And therefore, I answered 
that " if I were assured that Master Secretary [Sir Robert 
Cecil] would not cross me, I would undertake the matter." 

Whereof, having some hope given me, I took occasion, 
one day, in the Chamber of Presence, to tell his Lordship as 
much : who answered me that " as he would be no mt)ver 
or recommender of suit for me or any other ; so he would not 
cross me." 

I desired his Lordship of no further favour than might be 
looked for from a man in his place, for public respects. 

And hereupon, I resolved to have Her Majesty moved ; 
which Sir Fulke Greville performed effectually. 

Her Majesty, as her manner was, fell to objecting, that " I 
served the States, and that those two charges could not well 
stand together." 



no How ArrOlNTMENTS WERE TO P.E GAINED, [^'''v' 



F. Vere. 

1606. 



My Lord of Essex was, before this, gone from Court, 
discontented because of the difficulty he found in obtaining 
the Earl Marshalship of England. I went therefore to 
Wanstead to his Lordship, in good manners to acquaint 
him with what I had done : who rather discouraged me than 
otherwise in the pursuit. 

Notwithstanding, I waited and followed my business hard, 
and one evening, in the garden, moved Her Majesty myself; 
who alleging, as before she had done to Sir Fulke 
Greville, that *' it could not stand with her service, that 
both those places should go together ; " I told her Majesty 
that, " I was willing, if there were no remedy, rather to for- 
sake the States' service, than to miss the place I was a 
suitor to Her Majesty for, in hers." And so, for that time, 
Her Majesty left me without any discouragement. 

The Earl of Sussex was my only competitor; and for him 
my Lord North professed to stand earnestly ; who as soon 
as I was risen from my knees, told me, that '* such places 
as I was now a suitor for, were wonted to be granted only 
to Noblemen." 

I answered, " There were none ennobled but by the favour 
of the Prince ; and the same way I took." 

About this time, Her Majesty being in hand with the States, 
to make a transaction from the Old Treaty to the New, in 
which the States were to take upon them the payment to Her 
Majesty yearly, of so much money as would pay the ordinary 
garrison of the Cautionary Towns, it fell into deliberation. 
What numbers were competent for the guard of the said 
towns ? 

Wherein, before my Lords would resolve, the)' were pleased 
to call before them my Lord Sidney and myself, to hear our 
opinions, addressing their speech concerning the Brielle to 
me : whereunto I made such answers as I thought fit ; not 
partially, as one that pretended to interest in that Government 
[Governorship] ; but as I thought meet for Her Majesty's 
service. 

And hereupon. Master Secretary took occasion merrily to 
say to my Lords, that they might see what a difference there 
was, betwixt the care of Sir Francis Vere, a neutral man, 
and that of my Lord Sidney, who spake for his own Govern- 



^'■"'^■SG Elizabeth's very high regard for Vere. hi 

ment; " but," saith his Lordship, " he will repent it, when 
he is Governor ! " 

And then he told their Lordships I was a suitor for the place ; 
and that I should have for it his best furtherance. My Lords 
gave a very favourable applause to Master Secretary's reso- 
lution ; and severally blamed me, that I had not acquainted 
them w^ith my suit, and taken the furtherance they willingly 
would have given me. 

It is true, I never made anybody acquainted wath my suit, 
but SirFuLKE GREViLLEand Master Secretary. From thence- 
forward, I addressed myself more freely to Master Secretary ; 
and conceived by his fashion [inanncr], an assurance of good 
issue : though I had not a final despatch in two months 
after. 

In the meantime, my Lord Sidney and my Lord Grey 
were labouring to succeed me in the States' service. My 
Lord of Essex had promised his assistance to m}' Lord 
Sidney : insomuch as when I told him, at his coming to 
the Court, in what forwardness I was for the Brielle, and 
danger to lose my other charge, and who were competitors to 
succeed me ; he plainly said that '* he had given my Lord 
Sidney his promise, to procure him a regiment in the States' 
service." 

I answered that " the command of the nation [all English 
troops in the Dutch service] belonged to me by commission "; 
that " there was as little reason for my Lord [Sidney] to be 
under my authority, as for me to yield my authority to him " ; 
that " in respect of his Government [Governorship], he was 
uncapable of that charge as myself." 

By this again, I found his Lordship's care to hold me 
back: notwithstanding my Lord Sidney had soon made an 
end of his suit. But my Lord Grey stuck longer to it, and 
was earnester ; insomuch as there passed speeches in heat 
betwixt him and me. 

And yet in the end, such was the favour of the Prince ! 
that I enjoyed both the one and the other charge. 

In the same year, 1597, about the latter end of September, 
I passed into the Low Countries ; took and gave the 
oaths that are usual betwixt those of Holland, the Governor 
and townsmen of the Brielle; and so was established in that 
Government. 



112 4,6oo Spaniards encampki) at turniiout. [S""r"-y 



Vere. 

Co6. 



The Action at TurnJioiit. 



■K^J 


1 



Hat winter, 1597, the enemy laying at Turnhout, 
an open village, with 4,000 foot and 600 horse. 
One day, amongst other speeches, I said to Mon- 
sieur Barneveldt, that " they did but tempt us 
to beat them ! " which it seemeth he marked ; 
for, shortly after, the States resolved to make an attempt 
upon them ; and gave orders to the Count Maurice to that 
end, to gather his forces together. Which, at one instant, 
shipped from their several garrisons, arrived with great 
secrecy, at Gertruydenburg, in all, to the number of 6,000 
foot and 1,000 horse ; whereof some 200 [EnglishJ came from 
Flushing, with Sir Robert Sidney. Which troop, because 
he desired it should march with the rest of the English; in 
the love and respect I professed and truly bear to him, I 
made offer to him to command one of the two troops, the 
English forces were then divided into : which he refused not. 

That evening was spent in consulting and ordering of 
things. 

In the morning, by break of day, the troops began to 
march ; and continued till two hours within night, and there 
rested, within a league of Turnhout. There we understood 
by our espial, that the enemy lay still without any manner 
oi intrenchment ; having as yet no intelligence of us. 

A good part of that night was also spent in debating of 
matters. In the end, it was resolved, if the enemy abode 
our coming in the village ; with our cannon to batter them 
and so to dislodge them, or with our troops to force the place 
upon them. 

The Vanguard was given to the English troops, with 
Count Maurice's Guard, and some other selected Companies 
of the Dutch which the Count kept ordinarily in the Van- 
guard. 

The night was very cold, insomuch as the Count Maurice 
himself, going up and down the quarters, with straw and 
such other blazing stuff, made fires in some places, with his 
own hands, by the Co;-/>s dii i^uanl [pickets]. Sir Robert 
Sidney and I got us into a barn thronged with soldiers, to 
rest ; because there was no sleeping by the Count Maurice, 



Sir F. Vere. 
? 1606, 



■]Vere begins the fight with skirmishers. 113 



who was disposed to watch : whence I was also called, to 
attend him. 

In the morning, we set forward ; and by break of day we 
came within a falcon shot [320 yards : see Vol. IV. p. 251] 
of Turnhout, where the troops were put in battle. Whence 
sending some light horse towards the town, to discover ; 
word was brought that the enemy had caused his baggage to 
march all night, and that now the Rereward were going out 
of the town. 

Whereupon the Count Maurice caused our Vanguard to 
advance to the town : with which he marched. 

By that time we were come to the town, the enemy was 
clear gone out of it, and some musket shot off, on the way 
to Herenthals [which was twelve miles off] beyond a narrow 
bridge, over which one man could only go in front. They 
made a stand with some of their men; and galled our scouts, 
which followed on the track. 

The Count Maurice made a halt, halfway betwixt the 
bridge and the town : where I offered to beat the enemy 
from this passage, if he would give me some men ; alleging 
that this was only a shew of the enemy to amuse us, whilst 
he withdrew the body of his forces, and therefore this re- 
quired a speedy execution. Hereupon, he appointed me 200 
musketeers of his own Guard and the other Dutch companies, 
with officers to receive my commands saying that " he would 
second me, according as occasion should serve." 

With which, I went directly towards this bridge. Near 
to which, I found Count Hollock [Hohenlo] , who, that 
Journey, commanded the horse. He told me of an easier 
passage over that water and offered me guides ; but the 
distance agreed not with the necessity of the haste, and 
therefore I excused myself of altering my way : which he 
took in very ill part, insomuch as, not long after, he wrote 
unto me a letter of expostulation, as if I had failed in the 
acknowledgement of his authority, which he pretended 
[asserted], by an ancient Commission, to be Lieutenant- 
General of Holland, and consequently of all tlie forces ; 
which I answered in good and fitting terms, to his content- 
ment. 

And so placing my men in the best places of advantage, 
to command the bridge, I made them play at the enemy ; 

£XG. Gar. VII. S 



114 200 Dutch chasing 4,600 Spaniards. [^"■/•Teo! 



Vere. 
6. 



who soon forsook the bridge, being so narrow as aforesaid, 
and of a good length. 

I durst not adventure, at the first, to pass my men over it, 
the rather for that the country on the other side, was very 
thick of wood : but, after a little pause, I thrust over some 
few foot ; and, by a ford adjoining, though very deep and 
difficult, I sent some few horse, to discover what the enemy 
did. 

And causing mine own horse to be led through the said 
ford, I went myself over the bridge ; from which, some half 
a harquebuss shot, I found a small fort of pretty defence, 
abandoned : into which, I put my footmen which were first 
passed, and sent for the rest to come with all diligence. 

In the meantime, taking my horse, I rode with some few 
Officers and others, after the enemy ; whom we soon espied, 
some while marching, other while standing as if they had 
met with some impediment before them ; which we thought 
was caused by the number of their carriages. 

The way they marched was through a lane of good breadth, 
hemmed in with thick underwoods on both sides of it, fit as 
I thought, to cover the smallness of the number of my men. 
Whereupon, as also on the opinion the enemy might justly 
conceive, that the rest of our troops followed at hand, I took 
the boldness and assurance to follow them with those 200 
musketeers : which I put into the skirts of the wood, so as 
betwixt them and the highway in which the enemy marched, 
there was a well grown hedge. 

Myself, with about some 15 or 16 horsemen, of my own 
followers and servants, keeping the highway, advanced towards 
the enemy : giving, in the meantime, the Count Maurice 
advice what I saw ! what I did ! and what an assured victory 
he had in his hands, if he would advance the troops ! 

I was not gone two musket shots from this fort, but some 
choice men of the enemy, whom they appointed to make the 
retreat [to act as a rearguard] discharged on us ; and our men 
again answered them, and pressing upon them, put them 
nearer to their hindermost body of Pikes : under the favour 
of which, tiiey and such as, from time to time, were sent to 
refresh them, maintained the skirmish with us. 

When they marched, I followed ; when they stood, I 
stayed : and, standing or marching, I kept within reach, for 



^'■■7 y^e'.] A THREE-MILE FIGHT ACROSS THE HEATH. II 5 

the most part, of their hody of Pikes; so as I slew and galled 
many of them. 

And in this manner, I held them play, at the least four 
hours, till I came to an open heath, which was from the 
bridge, about some five or six English miles ; sending, in 
the meantime, messenger upon messenger to the Count 
Maurice and the Count Hollock, for more troops. And it 
pleased Sir Robert Sidney himself, who also came up to 
me, and looked on the enemy ; when he saw the fair 
occasion, to ride back to procure more forces. 

But all this while, none came, not so much as any princi- 
pal Officer of the army, to see what I did. 

On the left side of this heath, which is little less than 
three miles over, were woods and enclosed fields coasting the 
way the enemy were to take, in distance [off] some musket 
shot and a half. Along these I caused my musketeers to 
advance ; and, as they could from the skirts of the heath to 
play upon the enemy : which was more to shew them and 
our men that were behind, by hearing the shot, that we had 
not forsaken the enemy, than for any great hurt we could 
do them. 

Myself, with some thirty or forty horse that were come up 
to me to see the sport, following them aloof off. 

The enemy, seeing no gross troop to follow them, began 
to take heart ; and put themselves into order in four bat- 
talions : their horsemen on their wings advancing their way 
easily. 

When we had, in this manner, passed half the heath, our 
[i,ooo] horsemen, in i6 troops (for they were so many), began 
to appear behind us at the entry of the heath : not the way 
we had passed, but more to the right hand, coasting the 
skirts of the heath, at a good round pace. 

This sight made the enemy to mend his pace, and gave us 
more courage to follow them ; so as now, we omitted no 
endeavour which might hinder their way, falling again into 
skirmish with them. For they fearing more those that they 
saw far off, than us that followed them at their heels, being 
a contemptible number to them that might see us and tell 
[count] us, mended still their pace. 

I therefore sent messengers to those horsemen, for of our 
footmen there was no help to be expected, to tell them, that 



Il6 A VICTORY WON WITHOUT A FIGHT. [^ 



F. Vcre. 
? 1606. 



if they came not with all speed possible, the enemy would 
get into the strait and fast country, in which there could be 
no ^ood done on them. 

They were not above two musket shots from the mouth of 
the strait [ravine or pass], when the Count Maurice, with six 
companies of horse, came near unto us, that followed the 
enemy in the tail. The other horsemen, because they 
fetched a greater compass, and came more upon the front 
and right iiank of the enemy, were further off. I sent to the 
Count to desire him to give me those horsemen [i.e., the six 
companies]. 

And, in the meantime, to give the enemy some stay, I 
made round proffer [appearance or shew] to charge the Rere- 
ward : under the countenance of that second [support], with 
those horse and foot I had. Which took good effect. For 
they, knowing no other but that all the troops were also ready 
to charge, made a stand ; and seeing our horsemen on the 
right wing to grow somewhat near, put themselves into a 
stronger order. 

My messenger returning from the Count Maurice, told 
me, he would speak with me. 

To whom I made haste, and as the time required, in few 
words having delivered my mind ; he gave me three [of Jiis 
six] companies of horse to use as I should see cause. With 
which, I went on the spur : for the enemy were now march- 
ing again, and were come even into the entry of the strait. 

The other horsemen with the Count Hollock seeing me 
go to charge, did the like also. So that, much about one 
instant, he charged on the right corner of their front and on 
their right flank ; and I with my troops, on the rereward and 
le^^t flank : so roundly, that their Shot, after the first volley, 
shifted for themselves ; and so charged their Pikes, which 
being ranged in four Battles, stood one in the tail of another, 
not well ordered (as, in that case, they should have been) to 
succour the Shot, and abide the charge of the horsemen. 
And so we charged their Pikes, not breaking through them, at 
the first push, as it was anciently used by the men-of-arms 
with their barbed horses : but as the long pistols, delivered 
at hand, had made the ranks thin, so thereupon, the rest 
of the horse got within them. So as indeed, it was a victory 
obtained without a fight. 



^''?^'ISG Nearly 3,000 Spaniards killed or taken, i i 7 

For till they were utterly broken and scattered, which 
was after a short time, few or none died by handistrokes. 

The footmen defeated; our horsemen disordered, as they 
had been in the charge and execution, followed the chase 
of their horsemen and baggage : which took the way of 
Herenthals. 

I foresaw that the enemy's horse, that had withdrawn 
themselves, in good order and untouched of us, at the begin- 
ning of the fight, would soon put to rout those disordered 
men : and therefore made all the haste that I could, to the 
mouth of the strait, there to stay them. 

Where finding the Count Hollock, I told him he should 
do well to suffer no more to pass. 

So riding forward on to the other end of the strait, where 
it opened on a champaign, I overtook Sir Nicholas Parker, 
who commanded the three companies of English horse under 
me ; who had some thirty soldiers with the three cornets 
[standards]. 

With these, I stayed on a green plot just in the mouth of 
the strait, having on either hand a road washy way : with 
purpose to gather unto me, those that came after me ; and 
relieve our men, if the enemy chased them. 

I had no sooner placed the troop : but I might see our men 
coming back as fast and as disordered as they went out ; 
passing the strait on either hand of me, not to be stayed for 
any intreaty. 

The most of our men passed, and the enemy approaching ; 
Sir Nicholas Parker asked me, *' What I meant to do ? '' 

I told him, " Attend the enemy, with our troop there ! " 

" Then," saith he, " you must be gone with the rest ! " 

And so, almost with the latest, the enemy being upon us, 
I followed his counsel ; and so all of us, great and small, 
were chased through the strait again : where our troops 
gathering head, and our foot appearing, we held good ; and 
the enemy, without any further attempt, made his retreat. 

There were taken between 40 and 50 ensigns, and slain 
and taken of the enemy, nearly 3,000 : and their general 
Seigneur de Ballanxy, and Count de Warras died on the 
place. 

This exploit happily achieved, Count Maurice with the 
army, returned that evening, to Turnhout (where the Castle 



ii8 15,000 Dutch TROors invade Flanders. [^''JTloe! 

held by some of the enemy, yielded), and the next day, 
marched to Gertruydenburg : and I, to accompany Sir 
Robert Sidney (who took the next [nearest] way to his 
Government [Governorship]), went with him to Williamstadt. 
Where I did, on my part, truly and sincerely, touching the 
other circumstances of the service ; and was very friendly, 
when I made mention of him. 

I gave him my letters to read, and then to one of his 
Captains to deliver in England : but my letters were held 
back ; and his, that were far more partially written, delivered. 
Which art of doubleness changed the love I had so long borne 
him, into a deep dislike that could not be soon digested. 



T/ie battle of Niaiport. 

N THE year of our Lord 1600, the enemy's forces 
being weak and in mutinies, and his affairs in 
disorder ; the States resolved to make an offensive 
war in Flanders, as the fittest place to annoy the 
enemy most and to secure their own State, if they 
could recover the coast towns : which was the scope of the 
enterprise. 

As this action was of great importance, so were the meet- 
ings and consultations about it many : to which, though 
unworthy, I myself was called. \\niere, amongst ether 
things, the facility of the execution coming in question ; it 
was, by most, affirmed that the enemy was not able nor durst 
adventure to meet us in the field : which I not only opposed 
in opinion ; but more particularly, made it appear that with- 
in fourteen days of our landing in Flanders, they might and 
would be with us, to offer fight, as afterwards, it fell precisely 
out. 

The army embarked with purpose to have landed at 
Ostend ; but finding the wind contrary when we came to 
Zealand, upon a new consultation, it was resolved to disem- 
bark upon the coast of Flanders, lying on the river Schelde : 
and accordingly, by a small fort called the Philippines, we 
ran our vessels, which were flat bottomed after the manner 
of the countr}-, aground at a high water ; which, the ebb 




Sir F. Veie 
? 1606, 



•] T II E Y A R R I V E NEAR TO N I E U TO R T. II 9 



coming, lay on dry .s^round ; and so with much ease and 
readiness, we landed both horse and foot. 

Our army consisted of about 12,000 foot and 3,000 horse ; 
and was divided into three parts, committed to several Com- 
manders, viz., the Count Earnest of Nassau, the Count 
SoLMES, and myself. 

My troops consisted of 1,600 Englishmen, 2,500 Fnsons 
[Frisians], and ten cornets [squadrons] of horse: with which 
troops, I took my turn of Vanguard, Battle, and Rereward, 
as it fell out. 

We marched through the country to Ecloo and Bruges, 
and so to Oldenburg, a lort of the enemy not far from 
Ostend, which the enemy had abandoned, as also some others 
of less strength ; by which means, the passage to Ostend 
was open and free. 

The army encamped and rested there [at Oldenhursr] two or 
three days, to refresh us with victuals : especially drink, 
whereof the army had suffered great want, the water of the 
country we had passed [through], being, for the most part, 
very troubled [muddy] and moorish [boggy]. 

It was again consulted, Where the army should be first 
employed, whether in taking the forts the enemy held in tbe 
low and broken grounds about Ostend, or in the siege of 
Nieuport ? 

The latter being resolved on, the States, who had all this 
while marched and abode with the army, departed to Ostend, 
as the fittest place to reside in : and the Count Solmes, with 
his part of the army, was sent the direct way to Ostend, to 
take the fort Albertus, and open the passage betwixt that 
town and Nieuport. 

The Count Maurice, with the rest of the army, leaving 
the fort of Oldenburg and the others which the enemy had 
forsaken, well guarded (as was behooveful, because without 
forcing them, the enemy could not come to us but by fetching 
a great compass), marched by Hemskerk towards a fort called 
the Damme, upon the river [Ypcrlce] that goeth to Nieuport : 
but finding the country weak and moorish, and not able to 
bear the weight of our carriages and artillery, returned to a 
small village not far from Hemskerk, and lodged there. 

Thence, we crossed through the meadows to the seaside, 
filling many ditches, and laying bridges to pass the waters, 



I20 The Spanish army follows after the>l [_• 



Sir F. Vere. 
i6o6« 



whereof that country is full. And so, with much ado, we 
got to the downs by the seaside : and encamped, about some 
cannon shot from the fort Albertus ; which was rendered 
before to the Count Solmes. 

In the morning, early, we marched upon the sea sands 
towards Nieuport ; and, at the ebb, waded the river on that 
side that maketh the haven of that town : and so encamped. 

We spent two or three days in quartering and entrenching 
ourselves in places of best advantage, for our own safety and 
the besieging of the town ; laying a stone bridge over the 
narrowest of the haven for our carriages and troops to pass 
to and fro, at all times, if occasion required. 

In the meantime, the Count was advertised from those of 
Ostend, and those of Oldenburg, that the enemy, with good 
troops of horse and foot, were come and lodged near the fort 
[Oldenburg]. Whereupon, consulting, the opinions were 
divers, the most agreeing that it was only a bravado made of 
RiVAS ; who, we had heard before, had gathered between 3,000 
or 4,000 together, near the Sluis, to divert us from our enter- 
prise : and that upon our remove towards him, he would make 
his retreat to the Sluis again. 

Dut this falling out jump with the calculation I had before 
made, I insisted that it was the gross [bulk] of their army ; 
that it was needful for us, without delay, to march thither 
with our army also, lest that fort and the rest fell into 
the enemy's hands : who might then come and lodge at our 
backs, and cut off the passage to Ostend, to the extreme 
annoyance of the army: that in using diligence to prevent 
the enemy's taking these forts, we might at once block up 
and besiege those of the enemy held on the low and drowned 
lands ; which enterprise had been in question and debated 
as of equal importance with that of Nieuport. 

Notwithstanding that my reasons seemed well grounded; 
the Count Maurice was (as he is naturally) slow in resolving, 
so as, for that time, no other thing was done. 

The same night came messenger upon messenger, that first, 
the enemy had cannon ; then, that they of the fort were 
summoned in the Archduke's name ; after, that it was yielded 
upon conditions. And thrice that nij^ht was I called from my 
rest, upon these several alarms, which confirmed me in my 
former opinion, upon wiiich I insisted, with this change ; that 



si'-F- y|;^-g ] The Dutch army turns back. 121 

whereas my first purpose was to stop the enemy's passage 
under the favour of those forts : now, that occasion lost, we 
were to march to the hither mouth of the passage we ourselves 
had made through the low grounds, and to occupy the same, 
which was the shortest and readiest way the enemy had to 
the downs and seaside. 

The Count Maurice liked it well, and resolved to send 
forthwith the Count Earnest, with 2,500 footmen and 500 
horsemen, with some artillery also and provisions, to 
entrench upon the same passage; saying : " He would follow 
and second them, with the rest of the army, in due season." 
Which course I could not approve nor allow of, shewing my 
reasons, how this dividing of forces might endanger the 
whole; for I knew the enemy would, in all likelihood, use all 
possible diligence to get through this passage, and might 
well do it with his Vanguard and a part of his forces, before 
the arrival of these men ; which, being so few, would not be 
able to make resistance : whereas our whole army marching, 
if the enemy had been fully passed the low grounds, we had 
our forces united to give them battle according to the 
resolution taken, if he sought us or came in our way. If 
part of his army were only passed, which was the likeliest ; 
the shortness of time, the hindrance of the night, and the 
narrowness of the way considered : then we had undoubted 
victory. If we were there before him, the passage was ours. 

About midnight, the Count 'Earnest] had his despatch 
and order to take of those troops that were with the Count 
SoLMES, as readiest for that service. The rest of the army 
was commanded to march down to the haven's side by the 
break of day, to pass with the first ebb. 

It was my turn then to have the Vanguard, which made 
me careful not to be wanting in my duty : so as in due time, 
my troops were at the place appointed. 

And because the water was not yet passable, I went myself 
to the Count Maurice to know his further pleasure ; whom 
I found by the bridge, with most of the chief Officers of 
the army : whither not long after, news was brought unto 
him, that the enemy was passed the downs and marching 
towards us ; which struck him into a dump. 

I told him that all possible speed must be used to pass the 
forces before the enemy were possessed of the other side of 



122 Description of the ground of the battle. [Ji'lZt. 

the haven : that therefore, I would f^o to my troops, to take 
the first opportunity of the tide ; desiring him to give me his 
further orders what I was to do, when I had passed the 
haven. 

He willed me, to do all things, as I saw cause myself. Call- 
ing to him the Count Lodowick of Nassau, who then 
commanded the horse as General, he bade him go along 
with me, and follow my directions. 

So I left the Count Maurice, and went to my troops ; and 
so soon as the tide served, I passed my men as they stood in 
their battalions. 

The soldiers would have stripped themselves to have kept 
their clothes dry ; as I had willed them when I crossed the 
haven first : but then I thought it not expedient, the enemy 
being so near; and therefore willed them " to keep on their 
clothes, and not to care for the wetting of them : for they 
should either need none, or have better and dryer clothes to 
sleep in that night." 

When the troops of the Vanguard were passed, I left the 
footmen standing, ranged in their order, betwixt the downs 
or sand hills and the sea ; and with the horse, advanced 
towards the enemy whom we might discover afar off coming 
towards us by the seaside. Not to engage a skirmish or 
fight, but to choose a fit place to attend them in, which was 
now the only advantage we could by industry get of the 
enemy : for by the situation of the country, that skill and 
dexterity we presumed to excel our enemy in (which was the 
apt and agile motions of our battalions) was utterly taken 
from us. 

For the space betwixt the sea and the sand hills or 
downs, was commanded by the said hills, which are of 
many heads reared and commanding one another, containing 
so much breadth in most places that our troops could not 
occupy the whole ; and were everywhere so confusedly packed 
together, so brokenly and steeply, that the troops could 
neither well discern what was done a stone's cast before 
them, nor advance forward in any order, to second [support] if 
need were. And on the other side of the downs towards the 
firm land, if the whole breadth were not possessed, the enemy 
might pass to the haven of Nieuport, where our bridge and 
most of our shipping yet lay on the dry ground, and spoil 



Sir F. Verc. 
? i6o5, 



] Verb EXTE:\iroRiSEs a kind of Plevxa. 123 



and burn them in our view. All which inconveniences, I 
was to prevent. 

Finding therefore, a place where the hills and downs 
stood, in a manner divided with a hollow bottom, the bottom 
narrower and the hills higher to the seaside and North than 
towards the inland and South, which ran clean thwart from 
the sea sands to the inland ; the downs also there being 
of no great breadth, so that we might conveniently occupy 
them with our front, and command as well the seashore as 
the way that lay betwixt the low inland and the foot of the 
downs : in that place, on the hither side of that bottom, I 
resolved to attend the enemy. And therefore, having caused 
my troops to advance, I drew from the whole Vanguard 
about 1,000 men : viz., 250 Englishmen ; the Count Maurice's 
Guard, and such other companies as usually marched with 
it, 250 ; and of the Prisons, 500, which were all musketeers : 
the other two troops consisting of Shot and Pikes. 

The English and 50 of the Count's Guard [i.e., 300 in all], 
I placed on the top of the hill that lay more advanced than 
the rest ; which being steep and sandy, was not easily to be 
mounted, and in the top, so hollow that the men lay covered 
from the hills on the other side, and might fight from it as 
from a parapet. 

Just behind this hill, about 100 paces, was another far 
more high, on the top of which also, I placed the other 200 
of the Troops of the Guard ; on which also, with a little 
labour of the soldier, they lay at good covert. 

These two hills were joined together with a ridge some- 
what lower than the former hill ; which, endwise, lay East 
and West ; and, broadwise, looked towards the South or 
inland, and commanded all the ground passable. On the 
outside, it was very steep, loose, sandy, and ill to be mounted ; 
within, it was hollow. In which, I placed the 500 Prison 
musketeers, giving charge to the Officers to bestow their shot 
only to the southward, when time should serve ; which was 
directly on our right side and flank, as we then stood turned 
towards the enemy. 

Betwixt those two hills, on the left hand or flank looking 
towards the sea, I placed in covert in places for the purpose 
(so near the sea sand, that they might with ease and good 
order in an instant break into it), two of the four troops of the 



124 The Dutch officers want to advance. [^''■. 



F. Vere. 

' 1606. 



English, making about 700 men, ranged with their faces to 
the northward, looking directly from our left flank. If the 
enemy adventured to pass by us to the other troops, I meant 
to leave them [the 700] in his eye. 

Upon the sands, more easterly than the inmost of the two 
hills, I ranged in a front, with a space betwixt them, the other 
two troops [=650 wz(^»] of the English : and a pretty distance 
behind them, more to the seaward, the [2,000] Prisons in four 
battalions ; two in front, with a space to receive betwixt them 
one of the othertwo battalions that stood behind them, the files 
and spaces betwixt the troops being as close as might be con- 
veniently, to leave the more space for the ranging the other 
troops ; with a competent distance betwixt each troop, so as 
one troop shadowed not another, but all might be in the 
enemy's eye at one instant. 

And thus the Vanguard occupied about one-third part of 
the downs (leaving the rest to be manned as the occasion 
should serve, by the other troops), and, on the left hand, 
uttermost to the sea : and more advanced, I placed the horse- 
men [i.e., the ten squadrons], 

I had scarce done this work, when the Count Maurice, with 
the chief Commanders of the army, came to the head of my 
troops; where, on horseback, and in the hearing of all standers 
by (which were many), he put in deliberation. Whether he 
should advance with his army towards the enemy, or abide 
their coming ? 

Those that spake, as in such cases most men will not seem 
fearful, counselled to march forward : for that they thought it 
would daunt the enemy, and make the victory the more easy : 
whereas in attending him, he would gather courage out of the 
opinion of our fear, or take the opportunity of our stay to fortify 
upon the passage to Ostend, to cut off our victuals and retreat. 

I alleged that their army (that had been gathered in haste, 
and brought into a country wherethc}' intended no such war) 
could neither have provision of victuals with them for any 
time, nor any magazines in those parts to furnish them, nor 
other store in that wasted country, and in that latter end of 
the year to be expected : so as to fear, there was none, that 
they should seat themselves there to starve us that had store 
of victuals in our shipping, and the sea open to supply us, 
with all sailing winds. And for the vain courage, they should 



SirF.yere.-| QqUNT MaURICE AWAITS THE ENEMY. 1 25 

get by our supposed fear, after so long a march with cHmbing 
up and down those steep sandy hills, in the extremity of heat, 
wearied and spent before they could come to us, and then 
finding us fresh and lusty, and ready to receive them in our 
strength of advantage, it would turn to their greater confusion 
and terror. 

They persisted, and as it were, with one voice opposed : so 
as, in the end, I was moved to say that " all the world could 
not make me change my counsel." 

The Count Maurice was pleased to like of it, resolving 
not to pass any further towards the enemy ; and for the 
ordering of things, reposed so much trust in me as that 
he believed they were well, without viewing the places or 
examining the reasons of my doings : but returned, to give 
order to the rest of the army, which, as the water ebbed, he 
enlarged to the seaward, next the which the horsemen were 
placed ; and six pieces of ordnance were advanced into the 
head 1/ron^l of the Vanguard. 

In this order, we stayed ; and the enemy, though still in 
the eye, moved not forward for the space of two hours, and 
then, rather turning from us than advancing, they crossed 
the downs and rested other two hours at the foot of them, 
towai-ds the land : which confirmed their opinions that held 
he would lodge. 

But we found reasons out of all their proceedings to keep 
us from wavering. For it was probable to us, that the enemy 
overwearied and tired with that night and day's travel ; and 
seeing us passed the haven of Nieuport, wherein to have 
hindered and prevented us was the greatest cause of this 
haste, whilst he saw us stirring and ordering ourselves, might 
hope that we (that were fresh, now passed, and engaged to 
fight) would advance, the rather to have the help of our 
troops with the Count Earnest, if perchance he were retired 
to Ostend, which, the nearer the fight were to that place, 
might be of most use to us ; or else if we had heard of their 
defeat, we would be drawn on with revenge. But when they 
saw that we held our place, not moving forward, being out of 
that hope ; and not provided to make any long stay, for the 
reasons belore mentioned : they might resolve to rehesh them- 
selves, and then to advance towards us ; for which, that side 
was more convenient than the bare sea sands. 



126 Spanish foot of unconquered veterans. [J,XZ 



Vere. 

6. 



Withal we considered, that their chief trust resting in their 
footmen (which were old trained soldiers, and to that day, 
unfoiled in the field); they would rather attend the growing of 
the tide, which was then at the lowest, that the scope of the 
sands might be less spacious and serviceable for horsemen. 

About half flood, they crossed again the downs to the sea 
sands, and marched forward, sending some light-horsemen 
far before the troops. One of which, as we supposed, suffered 
himself to be taken ; who being brought to the Count 
Maurice, told him aloud that the Count Earnest was 
defeated ; and that he should presently have battle, aug- 
menting the number, bravery, and resolution of their men. 

The loss of our men we had understood before, and there- 
fore were careful to have but few present at the hearing 
of the prisoner ; whose mouth being stopped by the Count 
Maurice's order, the rest that heard it bewrayed it, either in 
word or countenance, to the soldiers. 

The enemy growing nearer and nearer, and their horsemen 
coming, in the head of their troops, in a competent distance 
to have been drawn to a fight ; I would very willingly have 
advanced the horsemen of the Vanguard near to them, and 
with some choice and well-mounted men, have beaten in 
their carabin[eer]s and skirmishers to their gross [mainbody], 
with purpose, if they had been charged again, to have retired 
in haste with the said Vanguard of horse betwixt the sea and 
the Vanguard of foot : and having drawn them from their 
foot, under the mercy of our ordnance, and engaged to the 
rest of our horse, to have charged and followed them reso- 
lutely. 

This advice could not savour to that young nobleman [Count 
LODOWICK of Nassau], that was not well pleased with the 
power that Count Maurice had given mc over his charge ; 
and therefore was not by him put in execution : who chose 
rather, as the enemy advanced leisurely, so he, in like sort, 
to recule [rctiyc] towards the foot. 

This counsel of mine taking no better effect, and their horse- 
men being now come within reach of our cannon ; I made the 
motion to have them discharged, which was well liked, and 
so well plied that we made them scatter their troops, and in 
disorder lly for safety into the downs : which had doubtless 
given us the victory without more ado, if our horsemen had 



^V'Taoe.] Both armies pass into the downs. 127 

been ready and willing to have taken the benefit of that 
occasion. 

Their footmen, out of our reach, kept on their way alonp;st 
the sands; and the sooner to requite us, advanced their 
ordnance a good distance before them, and shot roundly at 
us and did some hurt. 

The water now grew very high, so as both we and they 
were forced to streighten [narrow] our front. And the 
enemy — whether of purpose, as aforesaid, to fight with more 
advantage (as he took it), with his foot in the downs ; or to 
avoid the shot of our ordnance (for he could not be so care- 
less as to be surprised with the tide, and so be driven to this 
sudden change) — put all his forces, as well horse as foot, into 
the downs ; which horse crossed to the green way betwixt 
the lowlands and the downs. • 

All our horsemen stood with our Rereward. Hereupon 
our Vanguard altering order, our Battle and Rereward 
passed into the downs, and (in the same distances, backward 
and sidewards, as they had been on the sands on my left 
hand before) ranged themselves. So as the front of the 
three bodies of foot filled the breadth of the downs : all the 
horsemen being placed on the green way betwixt the lowland 
and the foot of the downs ; not in any large front, but 
[echeloned] one in the tail of another, as the narrowness of 
the passage enforced. 

I found a fit place on the top of a hill, from whence the 
green way on the inside of the downs might be commanded 
with ordnance; on which, by the Count Maurice his order, 
two demi-cannon were presently mounted. 

The enemy growing very near, I told the Count " It was 
time for me to go. to my charge;" asking him, " Whether he 
would command me any more service." 

He said, " No ! but to do as I saw cause." Willing us 
the Chiefs that stood about him, to advise him in what part 
of the army he should be personally ? Whereunto, we all 
answered, that for many reasons, he was to keep in the 
rearward of all : which he yielded unto. 

So I went to the Vanguard, and after I had viewed the 
readiness and order of the several troops, the enemy now 
appearing at hand ; I (the better to discover their proceed- 
ings, and for the readier direction upon all occasions, as also 



128 Advance of the Spanish SKHmisnERS. [^'V'-yele: 

with m}^ presence to encouraj^e our men in the abiding of the 
first brunt), took my place in the top of the foremost hill 
before mentioned. Where I resolved to abide the issue of 
that day's service, as well because the advantages of the 
ground we had chosen were [favourable] to stand upon the 
defence ; as also for that, in that uneven ground, to stir from 
place to place (as is usual and necessary in the execution 
and performance of the office of a Captain, where the country 
is open and plain), I should not only have lost the view of 
the enemy (upon whose motions, in such cases, our counsels 
of execution depend), but of my troops, and they of me ; 
which must needs have caused many unreasonable and 
confused commandments. 

The enemy's Forlorn Hope of harquebussiers, having got 
to the tops of the hills and places of most advantage, on the 
other side of this bottom before mentioned, began from 
thence to shoot at us, whilst their Vanguard approached ; 
which now growing near at hand, 500 Spanish Pikes and 
Shot mingled, without ensigns or precise order, gave upon 
the place where myself was, and very obstinately, for the 
space of a great half-hour, laboured to enter and force it ; 
favoured [covered] with more store of Shot from the tops of 
their hills, the gross of their Vanguard standing in some 
covert from the Shot with me, on the other side of the 
bottom. 

In the meantime, the Vanguard of their horse advanced 
along the green way (so often mentioned) betwixt the low 
inland and the downs, towards our horse that stood more 
backward against the flank of our Battle. Our two pieces of 
ordnance were discharged from the top of the hill to good 
effect and well plied ; and when they came nearer, and 
thwart our right flank, the 500 Prison musketeers (who, as 
I have before said, were destined to bestow their shot that 
way) did their part, and so galled them, that, upon the first 
proffer of a charge which our horsemen made, they were put 
into a disordered retreat, even to their troops of foot : our 
horsemen following them in the tail ; who were fain, there, to 
give them over. At the same instant, I gave orders that a 
100 men should be sent from the foremost troop of foot I 
had laid, as aforesaid, in the downs, to have given upon the left 
[? right] flank of the enemy, if he attempted to pass by us upon 



^'VyO;] Terrible conflict against great odds. 129 

the sands ; and as covertly as they could to approach and 
give upon the right flank of those that were in tight with me. 

When they were come up, and at hands with the enemy ; 
I sent from the hill where I was, by a hollow descent, some 
60 men to charge them in front ; which amazed the enemy, 
and put them to run, our men chasing and killing them till 
they had passed the bottom, and came to the gross of their 
Vanguard : from which were disbanded anew, the like num- 
ber [500J as before, who followed our men, and seized on 
some heights that were in the bottom somewhat near us, 
covering their Pikes under the shadow of the hills, and play- 
ing with the Shot, from the tops, upon our disbanded and 
skirmishing men. 

I sent to drive them from thence, being loth they should 
gain ground upon us, one of the same troops, from whence I 
had drawn the 100 men before mentioned, with orders only to 
make that place good. 

This was a bloody morsel that we strove for. For whilst 
our men and theirs were not covered with the hanging of the 
hills ; as they advanced or were chased, they lay open to the 
shot, not only of those that were possessed of those little hills, 
but also of the others higher which poured in greater tem- 
pests upon them: so as the soldiers that I sent hasted, as for 
their safety, to get the . . . side of the hill; and the enemy, for 
like respect, abode their coming with resolution. So as, in 
an instant (as the hill was round and mountable), the men 
came to handiblows, upon the whole semicircle of it, with 
much slaughter on both sides ; till in the end, the enemy 
was forced to retire. 

In the meantime, the Battle of the enemy's foot were 
come up to the gross of the Vanguard : which as it had 
taken the right hand of the downs so did the Battle, with 
some distance between them, though even in front. Having 
been well welcomed with our Shot from the tops of the hills ; 
the Battle stayed in as good covert as the place would afford, 
sending fresh men to beat ours from those grounds of advan- 
tage in the bottom ; so as, ours be.^inning to give back, I 
sent a new supply to make good the place in this bottom ; 
sometimes getting, and sometimes losing ground. 

The fight was still maintained with new supplies on both 
sides. Wherein I persevered, though with loss of men 

Ea'g. Gar. VII. g 



130 Thk fight maintained for a time. [^"/'T 



ere. 
606. 



because the advantage the ground gave me to beat as well 
upon their gross as on their loose fighting men, made the 
loss far greater on their side : my design being to engage 
their whole force upon my handful of men, which I employed 
sparingly and by piece-meal; and so to spend and waste the 
enemy, that they should not be able to abide the sight of our 
other troops, when they advanced. 

The horsemen of their Battle and ours encountered, but 
somewhat more advanced towards the enemy (our men 
having gotten courage with the first success), so as our fore- 
mentioned Prison musketeers could not so well favour [cover] 
them. Our horsemen being put to retreat; the enemy in the 
pursuit, being saluted by them [the Prisons], were stopped and 
drew back. 

Their Rereward, having now come up, even with their two 
bodies (for so I term them, because their Ensigns [colours] 
remain together ; though most of the men were drawn from 
them and in fight, and the Ensigns barely attended), ad- 
vanced on the left hand of the Battle : and spreading the 
breadth of the downs, they were to my troops rather on the 
corner of the right flank than afront ; and our Battle and 
Rereward upon which they directly fronted, were a musket 
shot behind my troops, towards which it seemed they 
intended to advance. 

First, we gave as much [fire] to them as we could spare, 
from our hills : but when they began to open [come within 
sii:;Jit of] upon my Prison musketeers (which, as before is 
said, could only bestow their shot on our right flank ; and 
till that time, had done no service but against their horse), 
they were exceedingly galled, so as they staged suddenly : and 
amazed, or ashamed to go back seeing none to chase them, in 
a bottom of some small covert, bestowed themselves; sending 
out some skirmishers along the southermost parts of the 
downs, against which some loose men were sent from our 
bodies. lUit our musketeers that shot, standing and without 
fear, from their rests, galled them most. 

The horsemen of the Rereward shewed themselves on both 
sides. Some little bickering there was, and so they retired 
out of the footmen's reach. 

This was a strange and unusual sight. For, whereas most 
commonly in battles the success of the foot depcndeth upon 



Sir F. Vere. 
? 1606, 



;] Sir F. Vere receives four wounds. 131 



that of the horse ; here, it was clean contrary : for so long 
as the foot held good, the horse could not be beaten out of 
the field; though, as it fell out, they might be chased to 
them. 

All this while, the fight continued, without intermission, 
hotter and hotter, betwixt the two other troops [the Archduke's 
Vanguard and Battle] of the enemy and me : both of us send- 
ing fresh supplies, as occasion required, to sustain the fight. 
Insomuch as the whole of the English troops [i,6oo--250 = 
1,350 men] were engaged to a hand fight in the foresaid 
bottom, saving those few [250] that were placed on the hills : 
and on the enemy's part also, few were idle. 

And now, I saw was the time to give the enemy a deadly 
blow : his grosses [main bodies] being disbanded, as well in 
occupying places of height and advantage to annoy us, as by 
those that were sent to dispute the places in question. For 
their only strength now consisted in their loose men : which 
any few horse charging on a sudden in that bottom, would 
have put to flight ; and they being followed pesle-mesle [pell 
mcll] with our foot, would never have had means to have 
rallied and gathered them.selves together again. On the other 
side, I knew that without further succours, their numbers 
would weary and eat us up in the end. 

I therefore at once sent to the [2,000] Prison footmen of the 
Vanguard to advance ; and to the Count Maurice, to tell him 
how things stood, and to desire him to send me part of the 
horse of the Battle. And because I saw the enemy press 
and gain upon our men more and more, I sent again mes- 
senger upon messenger. 

In the meantime, to give our men the more courage, I 
went into the bottom amongst them, where riding up and 
down, I was in their eyes both doing the office of a Captain 
and soldier : and with much ado, we entertained the fight, 
though the enemy encroached and got upon us. 

At my first coming j.e., nnto the bottom], I got one shot 
through my leg, and a quarter of an hour after, another 
through the same thigh ; which I then, neither complained 
nor bragged of, nor so much as thought of a chirurgeon 
[stirgcon\ : for I knew, if I left the place, my men would 
instantly quail. I therefore chose, not having been used to 
have my troops foiled, to try ihe uttermost, rather than to 



132 The English foot driven tack ; but rally. [ f y^^' 



shew them the way to flee : hoping still for the coming of 
the Prisons and the horse I sent for. 

But their haste was so small, that my men [i.e., those in the 
holtoin], overlaid with numbers, forsook the place, notwith- 
standing my best efforts to stay them ; hasting along the 
sands, towards our cannon ; the enemy following them hard. 

I was forced, seeing them all going, to go for company, 
with the last; uneasily and unwillingly, GOD knows I and 
in the way, my horse fell dead under me and upon me, that 
I could not stir. 

I had neither Officer, Gentleman, nor servant about me, to 
give me help. Sir Robert Drury by chance came ; and a 
(lentleman, being a servant of his, called High AM [see p. 136', 
drew me from under the horse, and set me up behind his 
master; which help came very seasonably, for the enemy 
being near at hand when I fell, by this means, I was saved 
out of their clutches. 

Thus I rode to the ordnance, where I found my brother 
Horace [afterwards Lord Vere\ and the most of the 
Officers that were living, with some 300 [? Euf^lish] foot. 

I made them stand from before the ordnance, and willed 
the canoneers to discharge upon the enemy that now 
swarmed upon the sands. 

At the same instant, my own company of horse and 
Captain Ball's coming thither ; I willed them to go to the 
charge ; and my brother with the foot to advance and second 
them home. 

This small number of horse and foot made an exceeding 
great change on a sudden. For the enemy in hope of 
victory, followed hard ; and being upon the sands, where 
horse might serve upon them, were soon routed and most 
of them cut in pieces ; the rest saving themselves by flight 
as they could, in the downs. Our men, both horse and 
foot, followed them. 

Their Battles, where their Ensigns remained, began to stir 
and rouse themselves ; rather for defence than to revenge 
themselves : for they advanced not. 

Our men, from the top of the hills, who had kept their 
places from the beginning, having by this means, a fair mark, 
plied them with shot. Our Ivnglish soldiers, on all hands, 
with new courage resorted to the fight ; and finding these 



V' r'o6.] ^ oo OUT OF 1, 600 English killed or hurt, i 



00 



Battles very small and thin (by reason of the men they had 
sent to supply the fight ; especially of Shot, which in these 
uneven places were of most service), pelted them with our 
shot, and pressed upon them to make them recule. 

The Count Maurice, seeing things on these terms, caused 
the Battle to advance, and his horsemen to make a proffer 
upon the enemies. Upon which sight, without attending 
any strokes, the enemy routed, and was chased out of the 
field. 



In this Last Charge, I followed not. [See Sir John Ogle's 
account of it at pp. 136-139.] For seeing the success upon the 
sands, and knowing that my directions in the prosecution of 
the victory would be executed ; I could easily judge that the 
work of that day was at an end. And therefore I began to 
care and provide for myself: who, all this while had been 
undressed, the blood leaking from me at four holes : which, 
together with a dangerous disease that had long held me, 
had made me extremely weak and faint. 

The enemy lost above 120 Ensigns [colours]. Most of his 
foot were slain : but not many of his horse lost. 

On our side, in a manner, the whole loss fell upon the 
English ; of whom, nearly 800 were hurt or slain. Eight 
[English] Captains were slain ; of the rest, all but two were 
hurt, and most of my inferior officers were hurt or slain. 

In the rest of the army, there was no loss at all, to speak 
of: especially among the foot. 

I dare not take the whole honour of the victory to the 
poor English troop of 1,600 men ; but leave it to be judged 
by those that may give their censure, with less suspicion of 
partiality. 

I will only affirm that they left nothing for the rest of the 
army to do, but to follow the chase : and that it hath not 
been heard of, that, by so small a number, in a ground so 
indifferent, whereof the only advantage was the choice and 
use of the same, without help of spade or other instrument 
or engine of fortifying, so great and so victorious an army as 
the Archduke's, had been so long wrestled withal, and so far 
spent. 

Yet this victory had been as assured with less loss, and 



134 The uattle might have been easier won. [^'"■/'T 



Vere 
606 



touch of reproach (if to give ground to a stronger may be 
subject to a disgraceful imputation), had the succours of 
horse or the foot I called for, come sooner to us : wherein I 
will charge and accuse none, but the messengers of their 
slackness. 




I ". 



oD 




An accou7tt of the Last Cliar^ge at 
Nieupoi^t battle^ 

by Sir J o H N Ogle, Lieutenant-Colonel 
toSirpRANcisVERE. 




He English, icho, as that great Captain Sir 
Francis Verb well noteth, had borne tlie 
burthen of the day (overlaid with ntnubers 
and wearied with fight, their sticcoiir not 
coming to them in time), were forced to retire 
themselves in such order as they coidd, from 
the downs to the strand : where meeting, but too 
late, with the [2,oool Prisons ; they, like good 
fellows, to keep its company [I] turned all fairly back again With 
us, and so we both marched away together in one confused troop. 

Some loose horsemen of the enemy came up close to us, and 
hilled of our men, thrusting divers of them, iviih iJicir rapiers, 
under their armour, in at their backs. 

Their foot followed leisurely, and were aloof, as not knowing 
how suddenly we might turn and make head again ; for our men 
kept both tlieir arms, and in troop : which Sir FRANCIS Vere, 
upon occasion given by some speeches of mine, noted to me for a 
good sign. 

Neither was our retreat or the enemy's pursuit of any extra- 
ordinary swift pace; as may be easily gathered by the consider- 
ation both of their and our motions. For we had the leisure, 
though I confess not without danger, to pluck oiir Captain from 
under his horse, and mount him again beliind anotlicr, as he 



136 Sir John Oglic rallies the English, [^"-y^il 



himself hath lold in his own Relation [p. 132] ; wherein I cannot hut 
wonder that it pleased him not to make any mention of me as iccll 
as HiGHAM ; since his blood, which remained on my clothes so 
lon^ after as I thought fit to wear them, witnessed clearly that I 
could not be far from him when that office that came so *' season- 
ably " and in so good a time, as he saith, was performed unto 
him. 

In this retreat of ours, there wanted no persuasions, as well by 
Sir Francis Verb himself as some others, to move our men 
to stand and turn : for we saw a kind of faintness and irresolu- 
tion, even in those that pursued us nearest. And it is certain {if 
we may call anything certain whose effects we have not yet seen) 
that if then we had turned and stood, ive had prevented that 
Storm of Fortune, wherein we were after threatened ; at least, ice 
had saved many of our men's lives. But such apprehensions of 
fear and amazement had laid hold of their spirits, as no persuasion 
could, for that time, get any place with them. 

Sir Francis Verb with his troop formerly mentioned [p. 132] 
took his way towards the cannon, along the sands : where he, by 
his chirurgeon ; they, by their fellows, might hope of succour. 

I being faint and weary through heat and much stirring, took 
some few with me, and crossed into the downs; there awhile to rest 
me, till I should see how the succeeding events would teach to 
dispose of myself, either by direction or adventure. 

I was no sooner come thither [\n the downs], but I met icith 
Captain [CHARLES] FAIRFAX [brother of Edward Fairfax 
the Voet], and young Master GILBERT {who soon after was slain 
near unto us). There we consulted what we should do. But the 
time and place affording no long deliberation, taught us to resolve 
that the best expedient for our safety was to endeavour the speedy 
increase of the little number which we had with us. I think 
they were 30 men. Having brought which to a reasonalde 
competency ; our further purpose was to give a charge when xce 
should find it most expedient, that so, with our honours, we might 
put an end to those uncertainties, the fortune of the day had, to 
our judgements, then thrown upon us. 

It was not long ere that our little body was multiplied to better than 
100 men. For the loose and scattered began, of themselves, with- 
out labour, to rally unto us. So much prevails Union even in a 
little body : for ivhilst to it the broken and disbanded ones do 
willi)igly offer themselves for safety and protection ; they them- 



^"?-^' ^lelo.] The L .\ s t C i i a r g e a t N i e u p u r t. 137 

selves, by adding of strejigth to that body, not only increase the 
number thereof, but do give and take the greater security to them- 
selves and others. 

We were, all this while, within less than a musket shot of a 
gross [brigade] of the enemy, which stood in a hollow or bottom 
within the downs : the hills about it, giving good shelter against 
the drops of our shot ; for the showers [volle^-sj of them, as also 
of the enemy's, were spent and fallen before. But neither were 
the hills so high, nor so steep, that they could forbid entry and 
commodious passage of charging, either to our horse or foot. 

The gross had not many wanting of 2,000 men in it ; and 
spying, as it should seem, our little handful {which at the first they 
might peradventure neglect or contemn in regard it was so small 
a number) now begin to gather some bulk and strength, thought it 
not loifit to prevent a further growth: and to this end, sent out 
150 men with colours [i.e., footmen:, closely and covertly as they 
could, along the skirt of the downs, next the inland and southward, 
with purpose to charge on the flank or back of iis ; which they 
might very conveniently do, as we then stood. 

These men advanced very nigh ns, ere we descried them : when, 
lo, just upon the time of their discovery and of our men being 
ready to fall upon them, comes Sir Horace Verb on horseback 
from the strand {it should seem from the pursuit of the enemy, 
whom the horse had scattered, mentioned by his brother Sir 
Francis Vere [p. 132'), with a troop of some 200 [foot] men, 
marching along the downs towards us. 

In this troop, there were with him, Captain SuTTON ; his Sir 
Horace's] own Lieutenant Colonel, LowLLL, that commanded 
Sir Francis Verb's foot company; and some Lieutenants. 
Morgan also came to tis, about the same time that Fairfax and 
I [with the 100 foot] joined unto him. And these were the 
Officers that were afoot in the Last Charge. 

The disbanded troops [the above 150 men] of the enemy, 
seeing us strengthened with such supplies, thought it their fittest 
course to hasten them [back] the same way they came forth towards 
us. 

Captain FAIRFAX and I would have charged : but Sir Horace 
Verb willed us to join our troops [evidently both were foot- 
men] with his; and said we should go together and give one 
good charge for all, upon that great troop which we saw stood firm 
before us. 



13S Tin: Cavalry join in the Ciiarce. p'/'^^oi: 

We had now with us, our troops being joined, about some five 
Ensigns [= about 350 footmen^, amongst i^'hich, was mine 
own; which, after, was lost in the Charge, but recovered again by 
my Officer. 

The vigilant and judicious eye of His Excellency Prince 
Maurice was, it should seem, upon our actions and motions all 
this while. For, as I have been informed, he seeing ns make 
head, said to those that stood about him, Voyez ! voyez les 
Anglais! qui tournent a la charge ! and thereupon gave present 
order to DUBOIS, then Commissary General for the Cavalry, to 
advance some of the horse, to be ready to attend and fortify the 
events that might happen upon this growing Charge. This I have 
not of knowledge ; but from such hands as it were ill beseeming 
Die, or any man, to question the credit of one of that rank, quality, 
and reputation. 

Our troop now, and the disbanded troop of the enemy marched 
both towards this gross, almost with equal pace, saving that their 
haste was a little greater according to the proportion of their 
danger if they had fallen into our clutches, being then too strong 
for them, ere they recovered the shelter of tlieir oivn gross. 

Yet such haste, they could not make, but that ice were with 
them before they had wholly cast themselves into tlieir friends' 
arms: who opening to receive them, facilitated not a little the passage 
of our Charge, as we then fell in pesle meslc together amongst 
them. 

Much about tJiis time, came in the horse, viz., the troops of [Sir 
Francis] Verb, [Sir Edward] Cecil, and [Captain] Ball, 
[see p. 132] ; who rushing in with violence amongst them, so con- 
founded and amazed them, that they were presently broken and 
disjointed : which being done, the slaughter was as great to them 
on their side, as the execution was easy to ns on ours. 

This rupture also of theirs was not a little furthered by the 
Archduke's own troop of Harquebussiers ; which having advanced 
somewhat before this gross on the skirt which lay between the in- 
land and the higher downs, was so encountered by CECIL and his 
troop {who had as then received orders, by Dubois, from his 
Excellency, to charge) that they were forced, with confusion to 
seek succour amongst their foot : CECIL following them in close at 
their backs. 

Vere and Ball, as I take it, charged at the front, by ns ; 
having crossed into the downs from the sands and north side 



Sir 



/■ °6i'o:] T II I s Charge w i n s the d a v. i 39 



towards the sea. It should seem that having broken and scattered 
the enemy, who, as Sir Francis Vere himself rclateth, were by 
them driven into the downs [p. 132] ; and seeing Sir Horace Vere 
also to have taken his way thither : they thought it perhaps con- 
venient to hover thereabouts, and to hold an eye upon our and the 
enemy's actions; the rather because they might discern Sir 
Horace Vere now making a new head. And so seeing us 
charge, charged also with us : which was not disagreeable to the 
first directions given and mentioned by Sir Francis Vere. 

And this, by all probable conjecture, must also be the cause why 
Sir Francis Vere, in his discourse, maketh no mention of Sir 
Edward Cecil. For he not having his direction from him to 
charge, but from his Excellency, as himself [Cecil] hatJi told 
me; Sir Francis Vere {being ignorant thereof; and himself 
likewise not at the Charge in person, whereby he might take notice 
of any man's presence) would not, as appears, expose himself to 
interpretations, by making any further relation touching particulars, 
than what might receive credit either from his own eyes or 
commandments. 

This Charge, through the hand and favour of GOD, gave us 
the day. What followed is before already set down by that great 
and worthy Captain, Sir Francis Vere. 




140 





Tlie Siege of Oste7id, 

N THE year of our Lord 1601, the States, 
resolving to send their army, or a good part 
thereof, into Flanders, to take those forts the 
enemy held about Ostend, and by that means 
to open the passage into that country, for the 
greater annoyance thereof, made choice of 
m5'self, though far unlit and unworthy of so 
great a charge, to command the said forces 
as General. Of which intent, I had first but only an inkling 
given me ; and was by some principal persons of the State 
encouraged to accept the same, and to take upon me a 
journey into England to inform Her Majesty of that purpose; 
and, with all the necessary circumstances, to frafhie her liking 
to the enterprise, and to induce her to the yielding of the 
succour of 3,000 of her subjects, to be levied, transported, 
and paid, at their own charge, and to be in the Low Countries 
by the loth of May. With these special instructions for the 
manner of the enterprise : 

That for the better diversion of the enemy's forces from the 
quarter of Flanders, the Count Maurice should, with the 
first season of the year, march towards Berg upon Rhine 
[RJicinbcri^] ; and to make shew as if he would, but not to 
engage his forces in the siege of that town no otherwise but 
tliat a good part thereof, especially the English, migiit be 
sent towards Ostend, upon the first summons. Which to- 
gether with 2,000 soldiers to be levied out of the garrisons of 
Holland and Zealand, and the 3,000 they made account of 
out of England, should, on a sudden, be transported into 
F'landers for the said enterprise. 



Sir F. Vere 
? 1606, 



;] The Archduke besieges Ostend. 141 



With this errand, I passed into En.s^land, delivered the 
whole plot to Her Majesty, who liked and allowed thereof, 
and with some difficulty, as her manner was, granted the 
men to be levied and transported in ten days' warning. For 
so the States desired, lest the overtimely stirring of them 
before their other troops were landed in Flanders, might give 
the enemy an alarm, to the difficulting of the enterprise. 
Willing me, the grant obtained, to hasten over [back]. 

Before my coming into the Low Countries, the Count 
Maurice was marched towards Berg; and the enemy, that 
had long threatened to besiege Ostend, with a good part of 
his forces, was set down before that town : so that it was 
now question rather of defending, than of gaining more footing 
in that quarter. 

The States therefore dealt with me, to take upon me the 
charge of the place, for which they gave me Commission, not 
as Governor, but as " General of the Army employed in and 
about Ostend," with very ample powers, as aforesaid : whereof 
I accepted. 

And they forthwith gave orders to the Count Maurice, to 
send into Holland the 20 English companies he then had in 
the army. With which troops, I was to go into Ostend. 

At the first, he made some difficulty to send any, having 
engaged himself in the siege of Berg, his works for the defence 
of the Quarter [forces covering the siege] not being finished, and 
the enemy gathering head in Brabant, to succour and relieve 
that town : in the end, with importunity, he sent eight 
companies; with which, my brother ySir Horace Verb] came. 

With these, being by the States put in good hope the rest 
should follow, and that I should be liberally supplied with 
forces, ammunition, and all necessaries for such a service : I 
went into the town, and landed, as I take it, the nth of 
July, 1601, on the sands against the middle of the Old Town. 

The enemy commanded the haven, so as there was no 
entering by it ; and the use of the [river] Geule was not then 
known : and this place I landed at, was to be subject to 
their ordnance ; and the seege [rolling] of the sea such that 
no shipping could lie there unbroken. 

At my landing, Monsieur Vandernood, the Governor, gave 
me the keys. 

In the town, I found about 30 companies of Nethcrlanders, 



142 Description of its Fortifications. [' 



F. Vcre. 

? iCoG. 



which made 1,600 or 1,700 men, newly divided into two 
regiments ; whereof Monsieur Vandernood had the one, and 
Monsieur de Utenburgh had the other: and my eight 
companies might make 800 men. 

The enemy had 30 pieces of cannon placed on the west 
side, the most within a harquebuss shot off the town; and six 
on the east side : with which, they shot much into the town, 
and did great harm to the buildings and men. Their army 
was judged at 12,000 men. The three parts [thereof] on the 
west side, quartered near Albertus, a great-cannon shot from 
the town ; were commanded by the Archduke himself. The 
other part were quartered upon the top of the downs, on the 
east side, next the Geule. 

Those of the town, before my entrance had made a sally 
on the west approaches : from which they were repulsed with 
the loss of 300 men slain and hurt. 

The town, to the land [ward] was well flanked and high 
rampiered, but with a sandy and mouldered [cnmibliiig] 
earth. 

The Old Town, supposed free from batteiy, was rather 
strong against sudden attempts by palisadoes and such helps, 
than by rampire and Hanks [curia in and side bastions' to abide 
the fury of the ordnance and force of approach : which not- 
withstanding was held to be the strongest part of the town, 
as well for the reasons abovesaid, as for that ii was hemmed 
in on the one side with the Geule not passable, and on the 
other with the haven which was passable only some four 
hours in a tide. 

The rest of the town, besides the ditch which was broad 
and deep, was environed with a royal counterscarp, with 
ravelins \half-nioons\ of good capacity and defence against the 
cannon, covering all the Bulwarks of all the town but that 
which they called the Peckell or East Bulwark [bastion], 
which needed not that help, as lying directly upon the Geule, 
and not to be assailed by any approach. 

Upon the south, south-cast, and south-west of the town, 
there is a plot of ground in the manner of an island, environed 
on the east side with the Geule, to the southward with a 
channel that runneth into the Geule, from the said Geule 
directly westward into the river that (in former times, passed 
through the01dHa\-cn; and) now had his course in the furthest 



^' y^^:] The importance oe the Poulder Bulwark. 143 

place from the town not in distance above a harquebussshot : 
to the westward, by the old channel of the said river, by 
which it passed into the Haven ; which was now separated 
from the ditch of the Counterscarp by a low dam near the 
Poulder Bulwark. This plot of ground, covering the town, 
from the said Bulwark to the Spanish Bulwark which lieth 
upon the Geule, had, upon the south-west angle (which is 
where the channel from the Geule mingleth with that of the 
river to the haven), a little redoubt, open behind, and of no 
force to resist the cannon. 

To the southward of this Poulder Bulwark, the country is 
broken by many creeks not passable nor habitable for an 
army, but by forced means; and in spring tides, for the most 
part overflown. 

On the west side, the ground, for a harquebuss shot from 
the river (that runneth due west from the said Poulder), lay 
low, and subject to the like overflowing at the spring tides : 
but all the waters were more passable, having fewer and 
shallower creeks. From this bottom, the ground towards 
the downs goeth higher. 

Betwixt these West Downs (which near the town, are 
more low and level than the East ones) and the Porccpic 
[Porcupine] (which is a Ravelin in the Counterscarp that 
closeth the New Town on that side, by which the Old Haven 
passeth into the town), there lieth a down on which the haven 
beateth on the one side, and the water of the ditch of the 
counterscarp on the other : being the only place, about that 
town, by which an approach might be made on firm ground 
to the wall of the town, and which therefore was held the 
most weak and dangerous place. 

But the cutting of the aforesaid dam, and letting the sea- 
water into the ditch of the counterscarp was held a sure and 
sufficient means to prevent the enemy on that side. So as 
indeed nothing was so much to be doubted \ feared] as the 
enemy's passing into this piece of ground before mentioned, 
called the Poulder : by which means, he might, notwith- 
standing our best endeavour, in short time, drain the ditches 
of the counterscarp and the town ditch; and so, make his 
way to the rampier. 

My first care therefore was to fortify and secure the said 
Poulder against the enemy; and to make a safe place for our 



144 Vere makes two new havens for Ostend. [^''/-y; 



ere. 

606. 



shipping to unlade such provisions and commodities as, from 
time to time, should be brought unto us. Which I readily 
and easily performed by opening a passage in the counterscarp 
near the West Poulder of the Spanish Ravelin ; by which 
means, the water from the Geule iluwed into the town ditch: 
in which, with their masts stricken down, I have often seen 
above one hundred vessels lie safe from the annoyance of the 
enemy's great shot. Which haven though the entry grew 
more dangerous by the enemy's approaches, which, in process 
of time, they, with much cost, labour, and art, advanced, for 
it lay within the high-water mark (on which they raised new 
batteries), was used, during the siege, as the better inlet. 

Albeit after, to avoid the great harm the enemy did to our 
shipping at their going out, I made another cut, betwixt the 
East Ravelin and the mount called the Moses Table, look- 
ing northward and directly into the sea : which served the 
turn, and saved many ships. 

When my twelve companies [of English] which I expected 
from Berg, were arrived ; I began, one night, to entrench a 
piece of ground higher and firmer than the rest about it, 
lying nearer to the low dam before mentioned, which separated 
the river that by the old channel had passed into the haven, 
from the ditch of the counterscarp: which piece of ground, 
stretched out in the form of a geometrical oblique or oblong, 
towards the West had a watered ditch, such as in those parts 
they use for enclosures [hedges] : and the whole plot, of 
continent sufficient to receive 800 or 900 men. 

This field, I entrenched ; taking the water ditch to 
advantage, without giving it any other form usual in fortifi- 
cations ; so as, for the form and seat, it was called the West 
Square : because the westernmost face of it was well flanked 
from the West Bulwark and the West Ravelin, and the face 
south-west from the angle of the Poulder where the channel 
of the Geule and the channel of the old haven met : but 
chiefly to hold as much room as I could. 

For I expecting large numbers of men, doubted [feared] 
more I should want means in that town, hemmed in with so 
many waters and ditches, to sally and use them abroad, as 
occasion should require ; than bodies to guard that which I 
entrenched. 

The morning after I had begun this work, the enemy 



Sir F. Vere. 



:] Mori-: Englishmen come into Ostend. 145 



turned divers pieces from the top of the downs upon it ; 
which notwithstanding my best industry, did much hurt 
amongst my men, till the work was raised and thickened. 

This plot put in reasonable defence, and part of the sup- 
plies [the 3,000 men] granted by Her Majesty now arrived ; I 
began to cast up a redoubt upon the like piece of ground for 
firmness (but not iully half so big as the former) l}ing about 
half a harquebuss shot south-west from the angle of the 
Poulder, close to the river that passeth from the said angle 
westward, which served well to covert [protect] the Poulder 
on that side, and to flank the west face and south flank of 
the West Square. 

The Poulder thus assured from sudden attempts, I began 
to raise in the said Poulder a rampier to resist the cannon 
on the inside of the old channel, from the ditch of the Poulder 
Ravelin of the counterscarp to the angle aforesaid of the 
Poulder, which broadways lay due West, and endways North 
and South. And the redoubt upon the said angle, I raised of a 
good height, and cannon proof, in the form of a cavallier [earth- 
work] to command over the said rampier of the Poulder. 

All this while, the enemy lay still, without making any 
approaches or intrenchments, or attempting to hinder my 
works ; otherwise than b}' his cannon shot, of which he was 
no niggard. 

Having, as I supposed, in this manner, well provided for 
the safe defence of that quarter ; I was desirous to draw 
some of the enemy from the sandhills, to dwell by us in that 
low watery ground to the south-west and south of the river 
that runneth from the West to the Poulder : which I knew 
would cause great expense, great labour, and much loss and 
consumption of men ; on which, besides the plots of ground 
I had taken, no trench, no approach, nor lodging could be 
had but such as was forced. 

Only about a harquebuss shot westward from my redoubt 
on that side and upon the same river, there was a pretty 
round height of ground, on which, sometimes, they of the 
town of Ostend had held a redoubt to the south-west and 
south, environed with a plashy moor, into which, by the creeks 
the water flowed so as, the greatest part of the tide, it was 
not passable. 

From this plot of ground, I could discover the back of their 

Ejvg. Gar. VII. 10 



146 Veke te^ipts the Spaniards into marshes, [^'"'/•y; 



ere, 

606. 



approaches on the downs; and from it, with cannon, could 
annoy them as well there, as in their shipping and boats by 
which their army was supplied from Bruges and other ports 
of the country. 

If they suffered me to take this height and fortify it, I had 
gotten two special advantages ; the anno}'ing of them and 
the securing of my works on that side : which, after, I might 
have maintained with fewer men. If I were impeached by 
tiieir sudden planting of ordnance and batteries ; I knew 
they would possess the ground, and piece-meal engage them 
more and more in those drowned lands : which was the other 
of my drifts. 

This piece of ground, to move and provoke them the more, 
upon St. James's Day [July 25, 1601], being the saint the 
Spaniards as their Patron do most superstitiously reverence, 
in the forenoon, I first sent as it were to view and discover: 
and anon after, I sent for men, and set them on work; and 
drew down in a readiness, under the favour [cover] of my 
outermost redoubt, 200 soldiers to make head, if the enemy 
came down to the other side of the river, to hinder my work- 
men with his shot. 

The enemy no sooner perceived my men to work, but he 
turned certain pieces of ordnance upon them from the downs, 
and shot at us, as did also those of the Fort of Grootendorst : 
but being far off, the shot small, and the men (observing the 
shot),bowing their bodies in the hollowness of the old trench, 
it did little harm. 

Their footmen in a great rage, as it seemed to me, of them- 
selves kindled with zeal, without direction or orders from their 
chiefs, came down towards the river side amain ; not armed 
men in battle and troop, but shot scatteringly as every one 
could lirst and rcadiliest take his furniture. Others with 
faggots in their hands, whereof they had store in their ap- 
proaches, began here and there, in confused manner, to raise 
a trench from the downs to the river, for other trench and 
covert they had none : so as they were a fair mark for our 
artillery from the town, and our musketeers from the West 
vSquare and the South-west Redoubt ; which spared no 
powder. Besides, the 200 musketeers I had placed with 
me, under the favour of small banks on the edge of the 
river, held them back when they came nearer hand. So as, 



^V'TS:! The SrAXTARDS fall into the trap. 147 

after much shooting and hurt done, the most of the day 
being spent, they gave over molesting us. 

And that night, I put the place into so good defence 
against the attempts of handistrokes, that I left a guard in 
it, and workmen to add more strength to it. 

In the morning, betimes, the enemy began to batter it with 
two cannon, w^hich the same night they had planted on the 
other side of the plash directly west, and about the fourth 
part of the way to their Fort called Grootendorst ; from 
whence, also, they shot with a couple of demi-culverin : and 
thus they continued the whole day, insomuch as our new 
work to them-ward was laid flat; and our men forced, for 
safeguard, to make hollow trenches in the said redoubt. 

About an hour before sunset, troops were seen to march from 
Albertus towards Grootendorst : which I gathered was to 
make an attempt upon the said redoubt in the beginning of the 
evening, before the breach could be repaired ; for which 
purpose, the water being ebbed, the time served very fitly. 

I saw by their earnest proceeding, that there was no striv- 
ing to keep and maintain that plot ; and therefore resolved 
to give way, but so as I would seem to be forced from the 
place. 

And therefore as I did set men on work in the beginning 
of the evening, to repair that breach ; to confirm the enemy, 
if he had foreborn his attempt that night, in the opinion 
that I would maintain the place : so I gave orders to the 
Officer I left in it, with some 80 men to hold good watch on 
the side of the plash, if the enemy attempted to pass, to 
shew himself on the brink of the said plash with his Shot, and 
discharge upon them, leaving his Pikes by the fort : with 
orders, if they advanced, to make his retreat to the South-west 
Redoubt, and there to hold good. 

Which directions were not well observed. For the Officer 
forthwith, when he had sight of the enemy's approach, which 
was about two hours within night, leaving his Pikes in the re- 
doubt, he with the Shot made for the plash side, and discharged 
at the enemy : who being strong in numbers and resolved, 
continued their way ; the officer still retiring hard to the re- 
doubt and skirmishing with him, as if his purpose had been 
rather to have drawn the enemy into some danger, than to save 
himself and his troops by a timely retreat. Which is an error 



I4S SUDDENBREAKOFFOFTIIE C(9J/J/^iV7:i/?/ir.S-. [^" 



F. Vere. 
? x6o6. 



that many in like cases fall into, to their utter destruction ; 
\\hen fear to have then' valour called in question maketh 
them, against all reason, fight against a stronger enemy, and 
engage themselves where they have neither purpose nor hope 
to obtain the victory. 

Those of the redoubt stayed the return of their men ; whom 
the enemy pursued so hard after he had gotten footing in 
the firm ground, that they both at an instant, came to the 
redoubt ; and by the way of the breach, which yet lay open, 
entered and overthrew soon our men ; who so taken at un- 
awares, thought it safer to fight than to run away. Others 
they overtook before they could get over the palisadoes on 
the other side of the redoubt. So as most of our Pike men 
were lost, but few or none of the Shot ; who, holpen with 
the darkness of the night, and their good diligence, escaped. 

Upon the alarm, having given orders for some troops to 
follow, I hasted to the South-west Redoubt : near which, I 
met with these scattered men ; which I stayed, and took with 
me into the said Redoubt. To which, the enemy even now 
approached, following their fortune, and hoping of like 
success : and on the other side of the river towards the north- 
ward, from under the favour of the bank to which, of purpose, 
they had also drawn musketeers, to flank and beat in the back 
our men as they should shew themselves to resist the at- 
tempt of their men on the other side of the water. Of the 
supplies that came from the town, I reinforced the guard of 
the said Redoubt : by which means, as also the difficulty they 
found in passing their gross over the creeks, with some loss 
to us, yet much more to them, they retired to the redoubt 
they had gotten. 

[The end of the Commeiitcwies 

of 

Sir Francis Vere.] 



^4^ 




Rev. William Dillingham, D.D. 

CoTiti7tuatio7i of the Siege of Oste7id^ 
ff\ 7:1 2 5 yuly^ 1 6 o I , as far as 7 Mar, 1602. 

Ere endeth, or rather here breaks off, Sir 
Fraxcis Vere's ConDiientary. For he con- 
tinued in his Government of Ostend for many 
months after [//// ith March, 1602] : but, whether 
it was because he th )ught it needless to give tlie 
world any further ac ount of it, who were all, by 
this time, become, as it were, Spectators and Eye- 
witnesses of what he did ; or whether he thought 
that it being so well known to many, some other would carry on the 
Relation, if the world should think it needful ; or whatever else the 
reason was : I do not find that his pen ever went any further. 

Yet because there were many things performed by him worthy of 
observation, and because the reader may perhaps have a curiosity to 
see the end of the story ; I shall here presume to subjoin a brief 
account of the chief passages in the sequel of that action, according 
to what I have met with recorded by others, to my hand, that so 
we may bring off Sir Francis Vere with honour from so great an 
engagement, and deliver him safe from the exceeding hazard of that 
employment : and this the rather, because I think this was the last 
action of consequence wherein he embarked. 




General Vere had no sooner taken a sure footing to himself, and 
fitted the scene wliereon the bloody Tragedy was afterwards to be 
acted, but he gave a pledge of his resolution to abide by it : refusing 
to quit his lodgings, notwithstanding that the enemy's cannon had 



150 VERli WOUNDED BV A CANNON SPLINTER. [R'^v. W.^Dillinybam. 

pierced them through with many a shot, and quite battered a Httle 
tower belonging to them. 

But though his enemy's cannon could not enforce him to abandon 
so much as his own lodgings; yet did his own, by a shrewd mishap, 
constrain him to withdraw himself for a time out of the town. For 
on the 14th of August [1601], being wounded in the head with 
the blow of a cannon that split in the discharging, he removed into 
Zealand to be cured of his hurt. The enemy having gotten intelligence 
hereof, made no small expressions of joy and triumph ; discharging 
many a peal of cannon. 

Whereliy if they hoped to fill the hearts of the besieged with terror 
and consternation, and to beat them from their former resolution ; 
they were much mistaken. For the brave E^nglish soldiers observing 
what storms of great shot came rolling into the town, the besiegers 
having already discharged little less than 35,000 cannon shot against 
it ; and perceiving by the story, that all the houses were likely, ere 
long, to be beaten about their ears, and so were likelier to endanger 
them by their fall, than any way to secure and protect them from the 
fury of the enemy's artillery : they advised themselves to take this 
course. 

There was a green plot of ground in the town, commonly used for a 
market-place, which was something higher than the rest of the streets. 
Here did they earth themselves, by digging it hollow, and fitting 
themselves with cabins and lodgings within the ground. The like 
did they, by another void piece of ground upon the south-west. 

Whereby, as they thought themselves secure from the enemy's 
battery, being confident they would not shoot mattocks and pickaxes ; 
so did they sufficiently testify their own resolution, rather to inter 
themselves in the graves which they had digged, than to quit their 
possession of the place unto the enemy. 

Hereupon, the besiegers shifted sails, and suiting their counsels to 
the disj^osition of the English soldiers (who are sooner won by fair 
means than foul), shot arrows with letters into the English Quarters, 
promising ten stivers [=ii'. 2d. ( = 5^. noiv)\ a day to such as would 
serve the Archduke against the town. 

But these offers were slighted by the English, who hated falseness 
as much as they contemned danger : and this device was looked 
upon by those of the town, as the product of languishing counsels ; 
which having already spent all their powder, came a begging for tlie 
conclusion. 

And if the Archduke had then given over the siege, I question 
not but the world would generally have excused him. For what 
should he do ? 

He had made his approaches as near unto Sand Hill as was 



Rev. W.^D:iIinKham.-| ^e^^tII OF THE LoRD OF ClIATILLOx^. 151 

possible for the Haven : which was the most probable place of doing 
any good upon the town. And tlierefore he had, ever since the 
beginning of the siege, bent the most of his great shot upon it, if it 
were possible to have made a breach : but all had hitherto produced 
no other effect than the fortifying of the Sand Hill Bulwark, instead 
of beating it down. For by this time, it was so thickly studded 
with bullets, that the ordnance could scarcely shoot without a 
tautology and hitting its former bullets ; which, like an iron wall, 
made the later fly in pieces up in the air. Yea, the bullets in it 
were so many, that they left not room to drive in palisadoes, though 
pointed with iron : and some there were, that would have undertaken 
to make the Bulwark [a]nevv, if they might have had the bullets for 
their pains. 

Besides, whenever they meant to assault it, they must resolve to 
force seven Palisadoes made of great piles, within the haven, before 
they could come to the foot of the Bulwark : and if they were not 
intercepted by the springing of a mine or two, yet was the Bulwark 
itself unmountable by armed men. And it might easily have been 
conceived they had gotten intelligence that there were thirteen 
cannon in the Counterscarp and other convenient places, charged 
with chained shot and rusty iron to scour the Sand Hill, if need 
should require. 

Besides all this, all was to be done at a running pull. For when 
the coming in of the tide should sound a retreat, off they must ! 
or be utterly lost. And they easily saw that the musketeers in the 
Half-moon of the Counterscarp were likely to give them such a wel- 
come as would make many of them forget to return to the camp. 

Notwithstanding all these great difficulties, no advice of old Captains 
could prevail against the obstinacy of the States of Flanders : who, to 
keep life in the siege, spared not to undertake the payment of a 
million of crowns [=;^3oo,ooo (=^1,300,000 nozc)] to the Arch- 
duke, rather than he should draw oft from the town. 

So that he took up a resolution not to stir, and, as his fugitives 
[deser/ers] reported, once he swore that " he would not rise from the 
table at which he sat, before they of the town were made to serve 
him." But then they, on the other side, laid a wager that they " would 
give it him so hot, that it should burn his fingers." 

Not long after, the Lord of Chatillon met with an unhappy mis- 
chance. For being upon the high Bulwark of Sand 1 1 ill, with Colonel 
Utkxkruch and other Gentlemen and men of Command; lie had his 
liead struck off, above the teeth, with a cannon shot ; and his brains 
dashed upon the Colonel's left cheek. Which possibly might receive 
its direction from the self-same hand, that did, more than once during 
this siege, shoot a bullet into the mouth of a charged cannon; which. 



152 Verk returns to his Command. [R^v. w.^Diiiin:,harn. 

because it would not be too long indebted for such a courtesy, taking 
fire with the blow, returned the bullet instantly back again, attended 
with another of its own. 

As good a marksman was he, if he did it of design, who, when a 
soldier of the town, having bought a loaf of bread, was holding it up 
in a boasting way, with a shot look away the uppermost half [of it], 
leaving the otiier in the soldier's hand : who, finding that he had 
received no hurt, said, " It was a fair conditioned bullet ! for it had 
left him the better half behind." However, I believe he would rather 
have been contented with tlie lesser half, than run the hazard of 
dividing again. 

On the 19th of September [1601], General Vkre, being cured of 
his hurt, returned from Zealand into the town : where lie found 2,000 
English and 20 F^nsigns \^^-co//ipanics] of French, Walloons, Scotch, 
and Prisons, that had arrived in his absence. 

Soon after his arrival, he took care for the thickening and strength- 
ening of divers of the works, and the uniting of tliose outworks on 
the south and west, the better thereby to secure their relief, and pre- 
serve them from the injury of the waters in the winter season. 

Which the enemy perceiving, and that the town grew daily stronger 
and stronger, resolved to attempt it by treachery, taking the old 
verse — 

dolus an virtus quls in hostc requirat 1 

To that purpose, an Englishman named N. Conisby, as the French 
Diary [i.e., of the Siege ; ? that by Henri Hckstens, intituled Histoire 
du Sit'i^i' dOstcnde en Flandrcs, printed by Elzevir, at Leyden in 
1615] relates, who had served them long in the quality of a Captain 
of foot in their army, returned through France into England : where 
he prevailed so much, by means of his friends, that he obtained 
letters of recommendation to Sir Francis Vere. Unto whom, pre- 
senting himself, he desired to be admitted one of his Comi)any : 
which the General could not refuse, he being a Gentleman and so 
effectually recommended. 

This traitor having thus screwed himself unto Ostend, quickly 
began his practice. For he received letters and other things weekly 
from the enemy, and gave them intelligence of all that passed within 
the town, and of the best means to annoy it ; managing his practices 
and projects according to the instructions which he received from 
them. 

For the better conveyance of his letters to the enemy, he carried 
them into a broken boat, which in the beginning of the siege had 
been sunk by tlie enemy, and lay upon the dry ground betwixt the 
town and the oimp, under the colour \_prdcncc\ of gratifying nature 3 



Rev.W.^DilIingharn.-| Yjjj, PLOT OF CaPTAIN N. CoMSBY. I 53 

and there disposed them in a place appointed : whence the enemy 
fetched them by night, with the help of a little boat ; and, upon 
certain days, brought him answers, and sometimes money for his 
reward, which he failed not to fetch at the place appointed. 

When he was discovered, he had drawn four men into his con- 
spiracy : among others a Sergeant, who was the means of revealing 
it. 

This Sergeant coming out of prison, where his Captain had caused 
him to be laid some days in irons, being all malcontent, chanced to 
meet with Conisdv : who told him he was glad to see him out of prison ; 
withal asking him the reason of his so great and grievous punishment. 

To whom, the Sergeant railing upon his Captain, sware earnestly, 
that he would be revenged for the wrong he had received, though it 
cost him his life. 

CoNiSBY, supposing he had found a man fit for his purpose, told 
him he might easily find the means to be revenged, without losing 
his life, and with his own profit and advancement ; and that if he 
would follow his counsel, he should want no money. 

The Sergeant began to listen to his words, and seemed inclinable 
enough to so advantageous a design, and ready to follow his advice. 
"\\"hereupon Coxisby, having first made him swear secrecy, discovered 
himself: and presently asked him if he had the resolution to set fire 
on one of the Magazines ; for which purpose, he himself had pre- 
pared a certain invention of powder, lead, and match. 

This, the Sergeant undertook to perform ; which he said, " could 
not be difficult for him to do, being often sent to fetch powder for the 
soldiers." 

CoNiSBY assured him that he had practised [with] more associates; 
and that when he should have made the number up to twenty, he 
would then put the design in execution : which was, that one of 
the Magazines being set on fire, he would so work it, as to have the 
guard of a Sluice in a Bulwark near the enemy, who should then give 
on, and be admitted into the town. 

The Sergeant seemed to hug the device, demanding only of 
CoNisBY some assurance, under his hand, that he should have his re- 
compence when the work should be performed. Which having once 
obtamed, away he goes to the General, and discovers the practice to 
him. 

Whereupon Coxisby being apprehended and put to the rack, con- 
fessed all, and that he came to Oslend with that jjurpose and intent: 
as also what instructions and promises he had received ; and what 
[ac]complices he had made, who were likewise apprehended and put 
in ])rison. 

This plot failing, the enemy's only hope of taking the town was by 



154 Instances of Pride and Courage. [R<^v. w.^Diiii„shnm. 

stoyiping up the haven, and so hindering the coming in of supplies. 

To this purpose, the Old Haven on the west of the town, having been 
made dangerous and useless, and the defendents constrained to make 
a new one out of the Geule on the east side : the enemy had now so 
straitened this also, by their float [ra/t] of great planks bearing ord- 
nance, on the Geule ; that they of the town were fain to make a 
second new haven against the midst of the Old Town, by which 
means the enemy's designs were eluded, and the ships of supplies 
admitted into the town at pleasure. 

This dangerous thrust being so handsomely put by, the enemy had 
no other play left but to storm ; which he resolved upon, and 
prepared himself accordingly. 

But in the meanwhile, it will not be amiss to take notice of a passage 
^vhich happened in the town. A French Gentleman, disobeying his 
Sergeant, and thereupon causing a great tumult, was committed to 
prison ; and, eight days after, condemned by a Council of War, to be 
shot to death : but because he was descended of a good house, all 
the French Captains interposed their earnest entreaties to General 
Vere, and begged his life ; which was granted, upon condition that 
he should ask the Sergeant forgiveness. This, when he could not, by 
any means or persuasion be brought unto ; he had eight days' respite 
granted him to resolve himself: which being past, and he continuing 
still as obstinate as ever, he was brought forth unto the place of exe- 
cution, and tied to a stake. But when once he saw the harque- 
bussiers ready to discharge ; he began to be apprehensive of the 
horror of death, and promised to perform the sentence, and ask the 
Sergeant's forgiveness : which he forthwith did, and thereupon was 
released. So much easier it is for pride and rashness to commit a 
fault, than heartily to acknowledge it. 

A truer courage was that of another in the town during the siege. 
An English (ientlcman of about 23 years of age, in a sally forth, had one 
of his arms shot off by a cannon : which taking up, he brought back 
with him into the town, unto the chirurgeon ; and coming to his [///e 
si/ri;wf/'s] lodging, shewed it, saying, " Behold the arm, which but at 
dinner helped its fellow!" This he did and endured, without the 
least fainting, or so much as reposing upon his bed. 



Not long after, on the 4th of December [1601], early in the morn- 
ing, the besiegers gave a fierce and sharp assault on the I'^nglish 
trenches : whicli take in the words of one present at it [ri'idcntly Sir 
J'KANCis Verb's J\i^e, Henry Hexham^ sec ^p. 171, 174]. 




"■•/"x6,'^:] The ASSAULT OF 4TII December, 1 60 1. 155 



Ir Francis Verb having been abroad the most 
part of that night, was laid down to take his rest: 
but hearing the alarm that the English trenches 
were assaulted, and knowing of how great import 
that work was for the defence of the town, pulling 
on his stockings, with his sword in his hand ; he ran in all 
haste, unbraced, with some soldiers and Captain Couldwell 
and mvself [Henry Hexham], into the works: where he 
found hi^ own Company at push of pike, upon a turnpike 
[barrier J with the enemy ; who crying in French, Entrcz ! 
enircz ! advancez ! advancez ! strove to enter that way ; and 
sought to overturn the turnpike with their pikes. 

Some of his Gentlemen were slashing off the heads of their 
pikes : among the rest, Lieutenant-Colonel Proud (who was 
afterwards slain at Maestricht), which he took notice of, and 
shortly after made him a Lieutenant. 

The enemy being repulsed and beaten off; Sir Francis 
Verb (to the end our men might give fire the better upon 
them, from the town and Bulwarks that flanked these works, 
both with our ordnance and small shot) commanded the 
soldiers to take some straw from the huts within the works, 
and making wisps of it, to set it on fire, upon the parapet of 
the work, and upon the heads of their pikes : by which light 
the enemy were discovered, so that our men gave fire bravely 
upon them from the town and works ; and shot into their bat- 
talions which had fallen on, and their men that were carr\ing 
off their dead. So that upon this attempt, the enemy lost a 
matter of 500 men, which lay under our works and between 
their trenches. 

The enemy being retreated into his works, Sir Francis 
Verb called me to him, and said, " Boy, come now, pull up 
my _ stockings, and tie my points ! " and so returned home 
again to his rest. 



The next Remarkable in the series of this fnmous siege was that 
memorable Treaty which General Veke entertained with the Arch- 
duke : of which I know none better able to give an account than Sir 
J(JHN Ogle, who had much at stake in the business, and was well 
acquainted with the several passages thereof; of which he hath left 
behind him the following account. 



'V^ 








m 


F^iS 



Sir Francis V e r e' s Parley at Ostcnd : 

written by Sir John Ogle, 

there present. 

FTFiK tlie battle of Nieuport, the Archduke 
Charles, desirous to clear Flanders, in the 
3'ear following [1601], sat down with his 
army before Ostend : unto which, the Lords 
the States sent Sir Francis Verb, their 
General to defend it. 

He having good numbers of men, thought 
it most serviceable for the States, to employ 
them so, as he might keep the enemy at arm's end, and a fair 
distance from the town. To this purpose, he possessed himself 
of several advantageous pieces of ground, fortifying upon 
them so well as the time would give him leave. But they 
were morsels as well for the enemy's tooth as his, and there- 
fore cost both bickering and blood on both sides, till at the 
last, what with numbers, artillery, and better commodity 
of access, he was forced to quit the most of them ; and 
that, ere he brought them to any perfection of strength 
whereby to make any resistance. 

Such as were nearest the town, and under the succour of 
his own power, as the three Quarriers or Squares, with some 
few others, he kept and maintained as long as he stayed 
there. Yet when, by protract of time and casualties of war, 
he lt)uiul his numbers wasted, and himself (the enemy creep- 
ing upon him) so straitened as he was thrust merely upon the 
defence ; he saw he was not in his proper element. Nor 
indeed, was he : for the truth is, his virtues, being great, 
strong, and active, required more elbow room ; having their 
be^t lustre where they had the largest foil to set them off. 



^'S-^'^flo'.] Replies TO Objections as to the Treaty. 157 

The works of Battle, Invasion, and the like were the proper 
objects of his spirit. The limits of Ostend were much too 
narrow for him : yet did he, there, many things worth the 
observation and reputation of so great a Captain as he was. 
Amongst the rest, that of his Parley [negotiations with the 
Archduke Albert] wsis oi most eminent note; and as most 
noted, so most and worst censured, and that as well by 
Sword- as Gown-men. Yea, his judgement (which even by 
his enemies hath often been confessed to be one of the most 
able that ever our nation delivered to the world, in matters 
of his profession) was in the action taxed [censured], and that 
in print, too, for his manner of carriage in this business. 

Now because I was, in some sort, the only instrument he 
used in the managing thereof, and best acquainted with all 
passages : I have (for the love I owe to Truth, and his 
memory) thought good to set down in writing, what I have 
hitherto delivered to the Lords the States General in their 
council chamber ; as also, some time after that, to the Prince 
Maurice of Nassau, and the Earl William his cousin, con- 
cerning this matter. 

Yet ere I come to the Relation, it shall not be amiss to 
wipe away two main aspersions which I have often met 
withal, by way of objection ; and are as well in every man's 
mouth, as in Emanuel de Meteren's book. 

The first, and that is the word, it lucked well ! judging the 
fact by the event ; but reservedly condemning the purpose, 
for had not the shipping come, say they, as it did, what would 
have become of the town ? He would have given it up ! 

Colonel Utenhoven, a man of note and yet living, one of 
their own nation, a Governor of a town, knows better: and 
the following treatise shall also make it appear otherwise ; 
and that he had not the least thought of rendering the town, 
though succour had not come to him at all. This point there- 
fore shall here need no further enlargement. 

The second is that he might have carried the matter otherwise, 
and have drawn less jealousy upon himself, by acquainting the 
Captains with it sooner; considering it was done without the 
privity of the Lords the States : nor was it fitting, to bring an 
enemy through such secret passages. 

This, at the first view, seems to say somewhat, as borrow- 



158 Vere WAS General, NOT siMrLY Governor, [^'""/^f.'f 

Ing strength from the common proceedings in other ordinary 
Governors ; who, upon the point as well of Parley as Article, 
ere they enter into either with an enemy, consult first, as it 
is fit, with the Captains of the garrison ; and this, it seems, 
was likewise expected here. But upon what reasons ? Was 
he such a Governor ? He was a General ! He had Governors 
under him ! Did he intend, as commonly do others, to de- 
liver the town ? He meant nothing less ! as is partly before, 
and shall be hereafter largely proved. What account did the 
States ever require of him ? What disgrace was there given 
him, more than a free acknowledgement of his singular 
carriage and judgement in the managing of a business of 
so great importance ! 

True it is, there was at first a kind of staggering, among 
the best ; which the mist of some partial information from 
some malevolent person in Ostend had brought them to : but 
this was soon cleared (first, by his own letters in brief, and 
after by me more at large), if not to the most of them ; yet I 
dare say to the most discreet and judicious amongst them. 

But let us now see whether it had been either necessary 
or convenient that the secret of this stratagem should have 
been revealed sooner, either to the Lords the States, or Cap- 
tains of the garrison ? 

To me it seems, that it had been, to the States, prepos- 
terous ! to the Captains, dangerous ! nay more, repugnant to 
sense and common reason ! and that for these reasons 
following. 

The project itself was but an onhryo ; and had been a 
mere abortive, had he delivered himself of it, before the 
attempt of the enemy : for from thence, it must receive 
both form and being. Now that, was uncertain and un- 
known to him, especially the time. He could therefore 
have no certain befitting subject to write to the Lords the 
States of this matter till the deed were done, and the pro- 
ject put in practice: which so soon as it was, he presently 
despatched a messenger, giving them a due account of 
the cause of his proceedings; and that, to their content- 
ment. 

It was a stratagem, whose power and virtue consisted 
wholly in secrecy. It was also a thread whereon hung 
no less than the States' town, his own honour, and the 



'V'?e"io;] Secrecy was absolutely essential. 159 

lives of all them that were with him ; and therein reason 
did notadmitofthelast communication. For the best pled<^e 
yoii can have of a man's secrecy, is not to open your thoughts 
unto him. 

Lastly, if he would have forgot himself so much as to 
have committed a secret to the trust of many ; could he 
yet promise himself that he should not meet with oppo- 
sition ? Would they, instantly, have been, all, of his 
mind ? \\'ould no man suspect the handling ? Why 
did they then after ? and that, when it was consummated 
and finished ? 

I have heard Colonel Utenhoven say, that " if the 
General should have made the proposition, he had broken 
the enterprise ! " and he knew best the Captains' inclina- 
tions : for he was the mouth betwixt the General and 
them, to clear those jealousies he saw them apprehend 
in him. It was therefore the safest and best way that 
could be taken, to set this business abroach, rather with- 
out their knowledge than flatly against it; and to hazard 
the interpretation of the action rather than the action 
itself. 

Besides, whoever yet knew the General Verb so 
simple or so weak, as to avoid military forms where they 
were necessary or expedient ? Wanted he judgement ? 
His enemies will not say it 1 Had he not will ? He had 
too many of them too Great, to lay himself open to their 
malice 1 He was a better manager of his reputation 
than to give them so palpable, so gross an advantage 
to build their scandal on. 

It was the Public Service and his own judgement that 
led him into this course : wherein, if there were any 
danger for his part, it lay on my head, which he ventured 
for the safety of all. 

It seems, then, that as it was not necessary, so had it 
been exceedingly inconvenient that the book of this secret 
should have been sooner unclasped before it was set on 
foot ; or to the Lords the States, before it was accom- 
plished. 

I come now to the Relation, leaving the branch in the 
objection, touching the bringing in of the enemy, as not 
worthy to receive an answer [see p. 163], 



i6o The north-west storms isolate Ostend. [^""j-^' V^.^: 

About the 12th of November [1601], it began to freeze 
exceedingly, the wind being North-west ; wliere it remained 
till Christmas or after, blowing for the most [part] a stiff gale, 
and often high and stormy. 

In this time, came no shipping vmto us, or succour out of 
Holland or Zealand ; nor could they for the wind : nor had 
we any, for some few weeks after. Our men, munition, and 
materials wasted daily. The sea and our enemy both grew 
upon us. 

At the spring-tide, we look still when that would decide the 
question touching the town, betwixt us and our adversaries : 
so exceedingly high and swelling it was, through the con- 
tinuance of the north-west wind ; which beat flat upon us, and 
brought extraordinary store of waters from the ocean into those 
narrow parts. Hands, we could set very few on work : our 
places of Guard were so many, our numbers so small, and 
those over-watched. 2,100 men was our strength ; but the 
convenient competency for the town was at least 4,000. For 
workmen, our need was more than ever : for the whole town, 
with the new^ forts therein, lately begun by the General (who 
foresaw the storm), hu' more than half open ; insomuch that, 
in divers places, with little labour, both horse and foot might 
enter. The North-west Ravelin, our champion against the 
sea, was almost worn away. The Porcupine or Porccpic was 
not well defensible. At all these places, could the enemy come 
to push of pike with us, when they list, at low water. 

This was our condition : neither was the enemy ignorant 
thereof, nor unmindful to lay hold on his advantage; pre- 
paring all things from all parts, fitting for the advancement 
of his purpose, that was to assault the town. 

Our General saw their provision and power, and his own 
weakness; but could prevent none of them otherwise than by 
practice [craft]. His industry slept not. His vigilancy 
appeared by the daily and nightly rounds he made about the 
town and works. His courage was the highest, when his 
forces were the lowest : for even then, he manifestl}- made it 
known so much, that of his store, he furnished plenty to 
others. 

One day, going about the walls, he began to discourse of 
our being pressed, and said, " He cared not what the enemy 
could attempt upon him ! " He was in one of the strongest 



^''^■?6]o:] Verb's efforts to cheer the garrison. i6i 

quarters of the town, when he spake this ; and not unwil- 
ling that such, as of themselves saw it not, should be kept 
ignorant of the danger that hung over their heads. The 
Captains and the Officers, he commended for their care and 
industry in their watch and guard : more to stir them up 
unto it, than really to congratulate that virtue in them. He 
said, " A Captain could receive no greater blow in his repu- 
tation, than to be surprised." Divers other speeches he 
used, tending to encouragement, and dissuading from 
security ; and often, amongst them, interlaced the strength 
of the town. 

I, at the first perceiving not his mask, began to put him 
in mind of some of the former particulars ; the whole town's 
weakness, and the Archduke's opportunity : but he told me 
quickly by his eye, he would not have their strength touched 
in such an audience ; so, slighting my speeches, he con- 
tinued his pace, and a la volee his discourse, till he came to 
his lodging. 

There, he called to me alone, and brake to me in these 
terms, " I perceive you are not ignorant of our estate ; and 
therefore I will be more open and free with you ! What 
think you? Are we not in a fine taking here! ha! I 
will tell you. Captain Ogle, there was never man of my 
fortunes and reputation, both of which have been cleared 
hitherto, plunged in greater extremity than I am now." 

Here, we discoursed of our condition before mentioned. 
Whereupon, he inferred that " he was like a man that had 
both courage and judgement to defend himself; and jet must 
sit with his hands bound, whilst boys and devils came and 
boxed him about the ears. Yet this will I tell you too," said 
he, " rather than you shall ever see the name of Francis 
Verb subscribed in the delivery of a town committed to his 
custody, or this hand to the least Article of Treaty, though 
with the Archduke's own person, had I a thousand lives, I 
would first bury them all in the rampire ! Yet, in the mean- 
while, judge you of the quality of this our being ! " 

I told him, that I thought " if he were in his former 
liberty ; he would bethink himself ere he suffered himself to 
be penned up in such a cage again." 

He made no reply ; but addressed himself to his business, 
and I to mine. What his thoughts now were, I will not 

Eng. Gar. VI I. II 



1 62 The Council of War in Dec. i6oi. [^'''/■^g-'o: 

enter into ; unless I had more strength to reach them. 
Sure I am, they want no stuff to work on. For the bone he 
had to gnaw upon, required as good teeth as any that were 
in Hannibal's head, to break it; and had not this been 
such, all the hands we had there, could not have plucked it 
out of our own throats. 

Not long after this, the General called a Council of the 
Colonels and chief Officers. There he propounded these 
two points. 

First, Whether, with the numbers formerly men- 
tioned, we could, in time of assault, sufficiently furnish 
all parts ? 

Secondly, or if not, Whether, in such an extremity, 
we ought not to borrow the troops employed for the 
guard of the Quarriers, to the preservation of the 
Town ? 

This was more to sound our judgements than of any 
necessity for him to seek allowance of his actions from them, 
for Generals use not [are not accustomed] to ask leave of their 
Captains to dispose of their guards ; what they are to quit, 
and what they are to keep. 

Our numbers, they confessed, were too few ; yet must the 
Quarriers at no hand be abandoned : but how to hold them 
sufficiently, and to provide for those places on which the 
fury of the storm was likely to pour itself forth, no man gave 
expedient. The voices were severally collected. 

When it came to me, I said that " seeing our case 
standeth as it doth, our breaches many and great, our num- 
bers few to defend them ; my opinion is that, when we 
should see the cloud coming, we quit the Quarriers : for I 
know they were ordained for the custody, not to endanger 
the loss of the town:" that "of inconveniences, the least 
must ever be chosen" ; that " it were ill husbandry to hazard 
the Principal, to save the Interest ; and as little discretion 
to let the lire run on to burn the palace, whilst we were pre- 
serving the lodge." 

The two Colonels, Roone and Sir Horace Vere, who 
spake after me, for the Chief spake last, were of the same 
mind ; differing only in some circumstances, not in sub- 
stance of opinion. 

Tliat the others were so scrupulous in this point is to be 



^V'^fi'o.] The SrANiSTi ar^iy ready to storm. 163 

thought to have proceeded rather from ignorance of our 
estate and danger, or else an apprehension grounded upon 
common opinion which was " lose the Quarriers, lose the 
town ! " ; or, it may be, the fear of the interpretation that the 
Lords the States would make of such an advice : and that 
fear was likely to be the greater, because perhaps they were 
not furnished with strength of reason to maintain their 
opinion ; or else they might find it fittest to la}^ the burden 
on his shoulders that was best able to bear it, the General 
himself. 

After this Council, there passed some few days till it was 
near Christmas. The Archduke was himself in person in 
the camp, the assault resolved on, and the time ; the prepa- 
rations brought down to the approaches : and the army, 
they only stayed for low water to give on. 

Here began the General's project to receive being. Till 
now, it had none. Neither was it now time to call the 
Captains to a new Council, either to require their advice, or 
to tell them his own. He had his head and hands full : ours 
had not ached now, had not his waked then more for our 
safeties than ours could do for our own. 

He bestirred him on all sides. His powers were quick 
and strong within him ; and those without, he disposed of 
thus : 

His troops, he placed mostly on Sand Hill, Porcupine or 
Porccpic, the North-east Ravelin, and the Forts and 
Curtain of the Old Town. These were tbe breaches. The 
other Guards were all furnished as was then fitting, accord- 
ing to our numbers. 

The Quarriers held their men till a Parley was com- 
menced : and by it, they were secured. The False Bray 
was abandoned by order, as not tenable in time of assault. 
The cannon in it were dismounted, lest it should be spoiled 
by our own in Helmont, which flanked it and the whole face 
of Sand Hill. 

This False Bray [a space at the bottom of the xvaJl outside, 
defended by a parapet or breastwork defending:!;, from the inner 
side of it, the moat] was that dangerous passaij^e mentioned in 
the objection going before [pp. 157, 159] ; which I thought 
to have passed over, but am since otherwise advised. 



1 64 Reply to Objection as to the False Bray. [f''J- ^f|^! 

It lay at the foot of Sand Hill, in the eye of the enemy, 
and was therefore as well known to them as to ourselves : 
and so was the way to it, for they saw daily our entry to the 
Guard, to he throui^h a covert gallery forced through the hottom 
of the said hill. It [the frallcry] was so narrow that two men 
armed were the most that could pass in front [in a row]. 
When you were come out of it, you were presently at the 
haven's side and the New Town, without discovering any 
Guard, Passage, or Place of importance, such as might any 
ways give the least advantage to the enemy's observation. 
It was, in truth, in nothing else secret but that it was 
covered overhead from the eye of the heavens : otherwise 
there was no passage about the whole town less prejudicial 
than that. 

There is a bolt of the same quiver likewise fallen into 
Emanuel de Meteren's book. There, the General's 
judgement is, forsooth ! controlled ; and by the providence 
of Captain Sinklyer [? ShWCLAiR] and some others, as they 
think, much bettered. The General, there, is said to have 
neglected the False Bray, and that, in a time when it was 
needful to have defended it : but Captain Sinklyer with 
other Captains provided for it. But how provided for it ? 
Sinklyer with six musketeers undertook it ! The Captains 
promised him two companies : the place could contain one 
good one ! But why Musketeers alone, and not Pikes ? 
Since they could make it good, why but six ? and that 
against the fury of an army 1 What knowledge would they 
teach our cannon to spare the Scots and kill the Spaniards, 
being pesle mesle ? 

It is ridiculous. Captain Sinklyer, if he lived, would be 
angry to have his judgement thus wronged and printed so 
small, as to undertake the defence of the False Bray, when 
the Bulwark [i.e., the Sivni Hill] itself was assaultable. But 
I leave these poor detractions that betray only the detractors' 
weakness : and so to return to the matter. 



On the two Bulwarks formerly mentioned, Helmont and 
Sand Hill, with the mount Flamenl)urg, he placed store of 
artillery and mortars: the mortars most of all at Helmont 
with much ordnance ; for that, as I said before, scoured the 



^V' ?6^io:] Vere opens negotiations on Dec. 23, 1 601. 165 

avenue of the enemy's coming upon the Sand Hill and the 
Old Town. 

When he had thus ordered his affairs for defence, he hegan 
to betake him to his stratagem : which, indeed, was our best 
shelter against that storm. 

He sent Captain Lewis Courtier, who spake good 
Spanish, into the Porcupine or Porcepic, the nearest place of 
Guard to the enemy, with orders to desire speech with some 
of them. He called twice or thrice, or more; but none 
answered him. So he effected nothing. 

The General displeased thereat, sent me to the place on 
the same errand. I called, but no man answered. I beat a 
drum, but they would not hear. Upon that, I returned to 
the General, and told him, " they expected form. If he 
would speak with any of them, I must go without the limits 
of our works." 

He desired it : but feared they would shoot at me. I put 
it to an adventure. 

Coming to the haven's side, I caused the drummer to beat : 
and at the second call, one answered me. 

After a little stay, the Governor of Sluis, Mattheo 
Cerano, came to me. Each made his quality known to the 
other, and I, my errand to him that "the General Verb 
desired to have some qualified person of theirs, sent into the 
town to speak with him." 

He made this known to the Archduke. I attended his 
return ; which was speedy, and with acceptance. He told 
me of his affection to our nation, bred and nourished through 
the good correspondency and neighbourhood betwixt the 
Lord Governor of Flushing Sir Robert Sidney, and him. 
He would take it as a courtesy that the General Verb would 
nominate and desire him of the Archduke, to be employed in 
this business. 

This was performed : and at our next meeting, it was 
agreed that I should be a pledge for him ; that each should 
bring a companion with him ; that he with his, should have 
General V^ere's, I and mine, Don Augustixo's word for our 
safety ; that during the treaty, no hostility should be used on 
land ; and that against low water, we should find ourselves 
there again at the same place. This done, we parted each 
to his home. 



1 66 Ogle AND Fairfax go as English hostages. [^V' ?6iS 

I told the General what had passed. He persuaded, and 
that earnestly, with the Netherlandish, French, and Captains 
of other nations, to have some one of them accompany me 
in this action ; the rather to avoid that interpretation which 
he foresaw would follow, being managed by him and his 
English only : but they all refused, notwithstanding he 
assured several of them, his purpose was no other than to 
gain time. 

Where, myself can testify, that coming to him almost at 
low water, to know his further pleasure ; I found him very 
earnest in persuading with an old Captain, called Nicholas de 
Leur : to whom I heard him say, Jc vons assure cc nest que pour 
gaigner temps. I was not then so good a Frenchman as that 
I durst say I well understood him, neither the purpose he 
had with him. Since, I have learned both better. 

This man refused as well as the rest. Whereupon the 
General, in a choler, willed me, to take with me whom I 
would myself; for he would appoint none ! 

I took my old companion, and then familiar friend, Captain 
Fairfax. 

Cerano and Ottanes were then at the water side, when 
we came. Simon Anthonio and Gamt-oletti, both Colonels 
\of Horse] or Maestros del Caiitpo, brought them over on horse- 
back to us. 

On the other side, Don Juan de Pantochi, Adjudante, 
received us ; and Don Augustino de Mexia, at the battery : 
behind which, was the army ranged ready for the assault. 

These two brought us to the Archduke [Albert], who 
was then come to the approaches [trenches], accompanied as 
became so great a Prince. 

We performed those respects that were fitting. 

He vouchsafed us the honour to move his hat. 

Being informed by one Hugh Owen, an Englishman, but 
a fugitive, of our names and families ; as also that I could 
speak Spanish : he conjured me " as I was a Gentleman, to 
tell him if there were any deceit in this handling or not ? " 

I told him, " If there were, it was more than I knew of: 
for, with my knowledge, I would not be used as an instru- 
ment in a work of that nature." 

He asked me then, " What instructions I had ? " 

I told him, "None! Fur we were come hither only as 



^'V'^e^oG Their interview with the Archduke. 167 

pledges to assure the return of them, to whom he had given 
his instructions." 

He asked me again, " Whether I thought the General 
meant sincerely or not ? " 

I told him, " I was altogether unacquainted with his pur- 
pose : but for anything I knew, he did." 

Upon this, we were dismissed ; and were by Don 
AuGUSTiNO [de Mexia!, whom Don Juan de Pantochi ever 
attended, brought to his lodging : and there honourably and 
kindly entertained ; and visited by most of the chiefs of the 
army, and also by some ecclesiastical persons. 

There came an advertisement from the approaches 
[trenches], of working in the town. This was occasioned, as 
they thought, by noise of knocking in palisadoes. 

To give orders to the contrary ; we were, after, carried on 
horseback thither. We having received answer that " it 
was only a cabin of planks set up to keep beer in " : the 
noise of that work, and their suspicion ceased together. Yet 
we stayed some hours at the Guard of Gamboletti, the 
Italian Colonel, who at that time had the Point [tJie advanced 
post or entrenchment] ; and the Conde Theodoro Trivulci 
and some others of the cavalry accompanied us some hours : 
after which, we returned to the camp, and to the Don 
AuGUSTiNO, and our rest. 

In the morning, we found our lodging environed with a 
strong guard : and understood of the discontentments of 
Ceraxo and Ottanes, who had returned ; and how they had 
not any speech with the General. 

This startled me and Fairfax, who dreamt of no such 
matter; nor of any such manner of proceedings: Fairfax 
thought I had some secret instructions in particular; and 
desired me to tell " what the Fox meant to do ? " 

I told him, and it was truth, " I knew as little as he": 
but calling then to mind the discourse he [Vere] had in 
his lodging, and mentioned formerly in this [p. 161], and 
comparing it with the action ; I said to Fairfax, " I verily 
believed that he meant to put a trick upon them." 

"But," quoth he, "the trick is put upon us, methinks ! 
P"or we are prisoners and in their power ; they, at libert)-, 
and our judges." 

Don AUGUSTINO coming to us, gave an end to this dis- 



1 68 "The Commissioners have come back!" p^'^glo! 

course ; and bef;inning another with me, apart in his own 
chamber, where, with a grave and settled countenance, he 
told me of the Commissioners' return, their entertainment 
and discontentment ; as also the Archduke's towards me, for 
abusing him. And especially he urged these two points, 
That I told Cerano that " the General desired speech with 
some from His Highness; " which seemed not to be so, for he 
flatly refused : and that I had said to His Highness himself 
that " I was not an instrument of deceit," which also 
appeared otherwise, and would not, I must account, be so 
slightly passed over. 

Hereunto, I answered, " That the Commissioners are 
returned without speech with the General is as strange to 
me as unexpected to them ; and I am the more sensible of 
this discourtesy towards them, through the kind usage I 
receive here of you ! but as I am not of counsel in this 
manner of proceedings, so I know as little how to help it as 
I can reach the drift. Touching the other point of His 
Highness's displeasure towards me, I hope so noble a 
Prince will admit no other impression of my person or 
actions than the integrity of both shall fairly deliver him. 
For if I have deceived him, it is more than probable I am 
deceived myself : nor do I believe that His Highness or 
any of you judge me so flat or so stupid as, upon knowledge 
of such a purpose, in irritating His Highness, I would 
deliver myself and friend as sacriflces to make another man's 
atonement. It is certain then, if the General hath fraud in 
this action, he borrows \pkdires] our persons, not our consents 
to work it by ; which though you have now in your power, 
yet I will not fear the least ill measure, so long as I have 
the word of Don Augustino for my safety." 

The noble Gentleman, moved with my confidence, took me 
in his arms, assured me it again; as also any courtesy 
during my stay there : and was indeed as good as his word. 

This thus passed, he told me, " He would relate faithfully 
to the Archduke, what I had said : " but yet, ere he went, 
he desired to know of me, what I thought was to be further 
done. 

I told him, " It could not be, but there must be a mistak- 
ing on the one side or the other. That therefore, to clear 
all doubts, I held it expedient for mc to wnie to the General, 



^''?-^?6i'o;] Verb's policy in not seeing them. 169 

to let him know our present condition, His Hij];hness's dis- 
contentment upon this manner of proceeding, the danj^er he 
exposed me unto ; and to understand his further purpose for 
our enlargement." 

This answer he carried presently to His Highness, and 
was interpreted by Owen ; and then sent by a messenger 
into the town. And thus was this rub removed, the Com- 
missioners required and sent in, and the Parley brought 
upon the former foot again. 

The General was not a little glad of their return, for it 
redeemed the fear he had of ours : who, as Captain Charles 
Rassart told me after, was not a little perplexed for me. 
He would often say, " What shall I do for my Lieutenant 
Colonel ? " and wished he had me back again, though he 
paid my ransom five times over. He would sometimes com- 
fort himself with hope of their civility and my demeanour : 
fearing the worst, he said, " I could not suffer better than 
for the public cause." 

The reason he hazarded us, and handled them, was to 
gain so much more time. For that was precious to him, for 
the advancement of his works in the Old Town : to which, 
through the benefit of this occasion of cessation of hostility, 
he had now drawn most of the hands that could labour, 
giving them spades to work, and orders to have their 
weapons by them ready, upon occasion to fight. 

He handled the matter so, that ere the Commissioners 
returned again, the Old Town and works were stronger by 
ithe value oil a thousand men. He could not have done 
this, at least so conveniently, had he begun conference with 
them at their first entry ; nor avoided that first conference, 
had he stayed them in the town : at least, (every man hath 
his own ways) he understood it so ; and it was a sure and 
safe course for him and his designs. 

For causing Edward Goldwell, a Gentleman that then 
waited on him in his chamber, to make an alarm at their 
entry : he pretended thereupon, treachery on their part, and 
made it the cause why he would neither let them stay in the 
town, nor return the way they came. 

This bred disputes, and messengers passed to and fro 
betwixt them and the General. In the meantime, the flood 
[tide] came in, and the water waxed so high that there was 



I/O TllK Co.MiMISSIONERS RETURN ON 24TII DeC. p'/'^glt 

no passaf:;e that way, without a boat : whereof there was 
none on that side of the town, nor any brought ; for that had 
been to cross his own purpose. 

The Commissioners desired earnestly to be suffered to 
stay, though it were upon the worst Guard [the most destroyed 
fort] of the town ; but it was denied. For he must rid him- 
self of them. He could not do his business so well, if their 
eyes and ears were so near him. 

He sent them therefore to their friends on the east side, 
forecasting wisely that ere they could come there, and thence 
by the south to the west side again there to have admittance 
to His Highness, and there to have the matter debated in 
Council, he should not only gain the whole winter's night, 
but also the most part of the next day, for his advantage. 
Which fell out according to that calculation; and, beyond 
his expectation, it continued longer. 

At the Commissioners' return, his latter entertainment to 
them was better than the first. He feasted with them, drank 
and discoursed with them; but came to no direct overture of 
Article, though they much pressed him. That part of the 
day and the whole night was so spent, and in sleep. 

The like had we in the camp ; except drinking, whereof 
there was no excess ; but of good cheer and courtesy abun- 
dance. 

In the morning, were discovered five ships out of Zealand 
riding in the road. They brought 400 men, and some 
materials for the sea works. The men were landed on the 
strand with long-boats and shallops. The enemy shot at them 
with their artillery, but did no hurt. 

The pretext of succour from the States, the General took 
to break off the treaty : which he had not yet really entered 
into. 

The Commissioners were, on both sides, discharged in this 
order. Cerano came first into the army. It was my right 
to have gone (back;: for him; but I sent Captain Fairfax, at 
the earnest entreaty of Don Juan de Pantochi [pp. 166, 167] 
and some others : who said, " They desired my stay, only to 
have my company so much the longer ; " making me believe it 
was agreeable to them, the rather for that I spake their lan- 
guage. I was the more willing to yield, because I would not 
leave any other impression than that I saw they had received 




"■""i6[^;] Affairs inside Ostend, on that night, 171 

of my integrity in the negotiation. Fairfax being in the 
town, Ottanes made not long stay; nor I, after him. 

The General was not pleased that I stayed out of my turn ; 
but when I gave him my reasons for it, he seemed to be well 
contented. 

Concerning what was done within the town during the treaty; 
Henry Hexham \^Sir F. Verb's Pa^e\ gives us this further account 
upon his own knowledge. 

He next day, towards evening, the enemy's Com- 
missioners, Cekano and Ottanes, returned again. 
General Verb's last entertainment of them, was 
better than his first. For he then feasted them, 
made them the best cheer he could, drank many 
healths as the Queen of England's, the King of Spain's, the 
Archduke's, Prince Maurice's, and divers others; and dis- 
coursed with them at the table, before his brother Sir Horace 
Verb and the chief Officers of the town, whom he had in- 
vited to keep them company : and having drunk freely, led 
them into his own chamber, and laid them in his own bed, to 
take their rests. 

The Commissioners going to bed, the General took his leave 
of them ; and presently after, went to the Old Town : where 
he found Captain Dexter and Captain Clark w^ith their 
men, silently at work. Having been with them an hour or 
two, to give them directions what they should do, returning 
to his lodging, he laid him down upon his quilt, and gave me 
charge that, an hour before day, I should go to Ralph 
Dexter, and command him from him, "not to draw off his 
men till the dawning of the day, but that they should follow 
their work lustily." 

And coming to him, at the time appointed, according to 
my Lord's command ; after the break of day, we looked out 
towards the sea, and espied five men-of-war, come out of 
Zealand, riding in the road, which had brought 400 men and 
some materials for the sea works. 

Coming home, I wakened my Master, and told him the first 
news of it. He presently sent for our Captain of the Shallops 
and Long-boats, which la u'nc^h ing out, landed them on the 
strand, by our new Middle Haven. 



'172 Vere's letter to the Archduke. [R-^v. w.^nniinyimm. 

And notwithstanding; the enemy shot mightily upon them, 
with their cannon from their four hatteries on the east and 
west side, to sink them, and hinder their hmding : yet did 
they no other harm but only hurt three mariners. 

These pieces of ordnance roused Cerano from " his naked 
bed " : who knocking, asked me, " What was the reason of 
this shooting ? " 

I answered him in French, II y avail qnclqne ^cns cVarmcsde 
notrcs aitrcs dans la ville : whereat he was much amazed; and 
would hardly give credit to it, till Captain Potley (who came 
with these ships, and whom he knew well) was brought before 
him, and assured him it was so. 

General Vere, having now received part of the long-expected 
sujiplies, together with the assurance of more at hand, straightways 
broke off the Treaty : which, though ending somewhat abruptly, had, 
it seems, finished the part which was by him allotted to it. 

Whereupon, he sent the Archduke the following accjuittance. 

E HAVE, heretofore, held it necessary, for certain reasons, 
io treat with the Deputies which had authority from your 
Highness ; but whilst we were about to conclude upon the 
Conditions and Articles, there are arrived certain of our 
^hips of war, by which ice have received part of that which ice had 
need of : so that we cannot, with our honour and oath, continue the 
Treaty, nor proceed in it, which we hope that your Highness will 
not take in ill part ; and that, nevertheless, when your power shall 
reduce 7(s to the like estate, you will not refuse, as a most 
generous I rince, to vouchsafe us again a gentle audience. 
From our town of Osiend, 

the 2$th of December, 1601. 

(signed) FRANCIS V E R E. 

Now, whosoever shall but consider how many, and how great diffi- 
culties the Archduke had struggled with, to maintain the siege ; how 
highly concerned he was in point of honour, and how eagerly engaged 
in liis affections ; and what assured hoi)es he had of taking the town, 
will easily conceive that he must needs find himself much discom- 
posed at so unexpected a disappointment. He had already taken it 
>\ith his eyes : and as if he had bound the Leviathan for his maidens 
to sport withal, luuler the assurance of the truce, he walked the 
Infanta before the town, with twenty Ladies and Genllewouien in 




Rev. W. DiUinshnm 



^^^'^J I,200 MEN REPAIRING THE WORKS. 1 7; 



her train ; as it were valiantly to stroke this wild beast which he 
had now laid fast in the toils, and to look upon the outside of the town 
before they entered into it. 

Now, to have his hopes thus blown up, and to be thrown from the 
top of so much confidence ; wonder not if we find him much enraged 
at it ! and what can we now expect but that he should let fly his rage 
in a sudden and most furious assault upon the town ? especially con- 
sidering that, before the Treaty began, all things were in readiness for 
such a purpose. But whether it were, that the Treaty had unbended 
the soldiers' resolution, or the unexpected breaking off had astounded 
the Archduke's counsels, or whether his men were discouraged at 
their enemy's increased strength, or whatsoever the cause were : cer- 
tain it is, that there was no considerable assault made upon the town, 
for many days after. 

And we have cause to believe that General Vere was never a whit 
sorry for it ; who had by this means, opportunity, though no leisure, 
to repair his works : wherein he employed above 1,200 men for at least 
eight days together. During which time, he stood in guard in person, 
at the time of low water in the night, being the time of greatest 
danger ; which conduced much to the encouragement of his men. 
Having received intelligence, by his scouts, of the enemy's prepara- 
tions and resolutions, within a few days, to give them a general as- 
sault : he was careful to man the chief places, Helmont, Sand Hill, 
and the rest ; and to furnish them with cannon and stones, and what 
else might be useful for their defence. 

Meanwhile, the besiegers spared no powder ; but let fly at the 
ships, which notwithstanding, daily and nightly, \vent into the town : 
and many a bullet was interchanged between the town and the camp, 
which lay, all this while, pelting at one another ; some s mall hurts 
on both sides being given and received. 

But the 7th of January [1602] was the day designed by the 
besiegers wherein to attempt something extraordinary. 

All the day long without intermission, did the Archduke batter the 
Bulwark of Sand Hill, Helmont, Porccpic^ and other places adjoining, 
with 18 cannon from two of his batteries : the one at the foot of the 
downs upon the Catteys, and the other on the south side thereof. 
From whence were discharged, which the cannoneers counted, above 
2,000 shot on that side of the town : all the bullets weighing 4olbs. or 
461bs. apiece. 

After I was thus far engaged, I happily \by hap\ met with an 
account of this bloody assault, by Henry Hexham, who was present 
at it. To him, therefore, I shall willingly resign the story. 




[H ENRY Hexham, 
Sir Francis Vere's Page. 

Accotmt of the Assault 07i Ostcnd^ 
qth 'Ja7mary^ 1602.] 

Is Highness tlie Archduke then seeini^: him- 
self thus deluded hy General Verb's Parley, 
was much vexed thereat ; and was very 
angry with the chief of his Council of War, 
who had diverted him from j^ivin;:;^ the 
assault upon that day [23;':? Dcccmhcr, 
1601] when the Parley was called for : 
insomuch that some of them, for two or 
three days after, as it was credibly reported, durst not look 
him in the face. 

Others, to please him, persuaded him to p^ive an assault 
upon the town. Hereupon, His Hicjhness took a resolution 
to revent;e himself of those within the town, sayini; " he would 
put them all to the sword ! " his Commanders and soldiers 
taking likewise an oath that, if they entered, " they would not 
spare man, woman, nor child in it ! " 

Till that, the enemy had shot upon and into the town, 
above 163,200 cannon shot, to beat it about our ears; scarcely 
leaving a whole house standing : but now, to pour out his 
wrath and fury more upon us, on the 7th of January [1602] 
above- said, very early in the morning, he began with iS pieces 
of cannon and half-cannon, carrying bullets of 4Slbs and 4olbs 
apiece \Scc Vol. IV. p. 251', from their Pile Battery, and 
that which stood under their Cattey upon the foot of the 




"■""i6i'!J."]r'LANAND DETAILS OF SpAXISII ATTACK. 1/5 

downs, to batter Sand Hill, the Porccpic, and Helmont. 
And that day till evening, he shot upon Sand Hill and the 
Curtain of the Old Town, above 220 cannon shot ; insomuch 
that it might rather have been called Iron Hill than Sand 
Hill : for it stuck so full of bullets, that many of them tumbled 
down into the False Bay ; and others striking on their own 
bullets, broke in pieces, and flew up into the air as high as a 
steeple. 

During this furious battery, the enemy, all the day long, 
made great preparations to assault us against night : and to 
that end, brought down scaling ladders, great store of ammu- 
nition, hand grenades 'small shells throie^n with the hand], and 
divers other instruments and materials of war fitting there- 
unto ; and withal, towards evening, drew down his army, 
and ordered his men in this manner : 

Count Farnese, an Italian, should first give on, with 2,000 
Italians and Spaniards, upon Sand Hill, the breach, and the 
Curtain of the Old Town : and the Governor of Dixmunde, 
with 2,000 Spaniards and other nations, upon the Purcepic 
and Helmont. Another Captain, with 500 men, was to fall 
on upon the West Ravelin ; and another Captain, with 500 
men more, upon the South Quarriers : and the Spanish 
Sergeant-Major General [? Ottanes] which was an hostage 
in Ostend, upon the West Quarriers. Making in all 8,000 
men to assault the west side. 

And the Count of Bucquoy was to have assaulted the east 
side, the East Ravelin and the New Haven ; as a second 
[support] for them which fell on upon the Sand Hill and the 
Old Town on the west side. And thus their men, time, and 
place were ordered. 

General Verb knowing the enemy's intent, that he would 
assault us at low water, slept not ; but was exceedingly careful 
and vigilant, all the day, to prepare the things necessary to 
defend the town and withstand the enemy. And because 
there were no spars, beams, and palisadoes in the Magazine, he 
caused divers houses that were shot [through], to be pulled 
down ; and taking the beams and spars from off them, he 
made the carpenters make palisadoes and stockadoes of them. 
At a high water, he shut the West Sluices, and engrossed as 
much water as he possibly could into the Old and New Town. 



176 Plan and details of Engllsii defence. T'^' •/"l'6l^! 

Towards evening, he drew all the men in the town that 
were able to fight, into arms : and disposed of them, as 
followeth : 

To maintain Sand Hill, and defend the breach, he placed 
his brother Sir Horace Verb, and Sir Charles Fairfax 
\pp. T36, 166] with 12 weak companies, whereof some were 
not above 10 or 12 strong ; giving them double arms, a pike 
and a musket, and a good store of ammunition. 

Upon the Curtain [i.e., the plain wall] of the Old Town 
between Sand Hill and a redoubt called Schottenburch (a 
most dangerous place, which he feared most ; being torn and 
beaten down with the sea and the enemy's cannon), Sir 
Francis Vere stood himself, with Captain Zeglin with 6 
weak companies, to help to defend it. 

Within the redoubt of Schottenburch itself, he appointed 
Captain Utenhoven [pp. 157, 159] and Captain Haugiiton, 
with their 2 companies. 

From Schottenburch along the Curtain to the Old Church 
(which the enemy had shot down) ; he placed Colonel Lone 
with his 30G Zealanders that came in to the town [in the five 
ships, pp. 170, 172J the day [2^th Dec, 1601J the Parley brake 
off. 

From the Old Church along the Curtain and the Flanks to 
the north part ; Captain Zithan commanded over 6 weak 
companies. 

Upon the redoubt called Moses Table, was Captain 
Montesquire de Roques, a worthy French Captain, whom 
Sir Francis V^ere loved entirely for the worth and valour 
that was in him, with 2 French companies. 

For the guarding of the North Ravelin ; he appointed 
Captain Charles Rassart with 4 weak companies. 

The rest of the Curtain, by reason of the Flanks upon the 
cut of the New Haven, being reasonably well defended, were 
left unmanned. 

Upon the Curtain of the New Town, under Flamenburg, 
were placed 5 weak companies ; to second [support] Moses 
Table, if need did require. 

Upon Flamenburg, 2 whole-cannon and 2 field pieces were 
planted, to scour the Old Town. 

Upon tiie West Ravelin, 2 companies were likewise placed, 
and a whole-cannon and 2 half-cannon planted upon it. 



"■ "^''i6,'^:] 1,200 MEX TO RESIST I0,000 StAXIARDS. I 77 

For the defending of the Porccpic, a place of great import- 
ance, lying under the Helmont ; Sir Francis Verb placed four 
of the strongest companies that could be found in the town. 

Upon the Bulwark called Helmont, which flanked directly 
the breach and Sand Hill, and scoured along the strand, 
between the enemy's Pile Battery, the Old Haven, over which 
they were to pass to come to Sand Hill, and the Curtain of 
the Old Town, which also did help to defend the Porcepic : he 
placed 10 weak companies, whereof the General's company 
was one. And it had upon it 9 brass and iron pieces, ladened 
with chained bullets, boxes with musket bullets, and cartridge 
shot. These 10 companies were kept as a reserve, to be 
employed as a second [reinforcement] where most occasion 
required. They were commanded by Captain METKiRCKand 
Sergeant-Major [■= the present Major of a foot regiment: see 
Vol. I. p. 463] Carpenter. 

The rest of the bulwarks and rampires, and the Counterscarp 
about the town were but slightly manned, with a few men ; 
in regard that the enemy could come to attempt none of them, 
till he became master of the former. 

Here you see a great many companies thus disposed of; 
but all, or most of them, were exceedingly weak, and some 
of them not above 7 or 8 men strong : which in all, could not 
make above 1,200 able fighting men, to resist an army of 
10,000 men, that stood ready to assault them. 

The ordnance and other instruments and materials of war, 
the General disposed of in this sort : 

Upon the casement of the West Bulwark, he planted two 
whole and two half-cannon, which flanked Helmont and the 
Porcepic, and scoured along the Old Haven down as far as the 
Ton Beacon, beyond their Pile Battery, next to that place 
where they were to pass over the haven at a low water. This 
ordnance was likewise charged wuth musket bullets, chain 
bullets, and iron bullets. 

Upon all these batteries, especially those which flanked 
the breach and played directly upon the strand ; Sir Francis 
Verb disposed of the best cannoneers in the town : among 
the rest, Francis the Gurmer, an excellent cannoneer, who 
had been the death of many a Spaniard. And because they 
should be sure to take their mark right upon their cog [mark], 

EM.. Gak. VII. J 2 



178 A TRECIOUS QUARTER OF AN HOUR. ["' ""Is."^. 

before it grew dark, he commanded them to let fly two or 
three cannon bullets upon the strand and towards the New 
Haven, to see for a trial where their bullets fell, that they 
might find their ground the better in the night, when the 
enemy was to fall on. 

Moreover, on the top of the breach, and along the Curtain 
of the Old Town, were set firkins of ashes, to be tumbled 
down the wall upon the enemy to blind them : also little 
fnkin^ with fi'ize-i'uytcrs or quadrant tenternails, three sticking 
in the ground and one upright ; which were likewise to be 
cast down the rampire to prick them, when they sought to 
enter. Then there were many great heaps of stones and 
brickbats (brought from the Old Church they had shot down) 
to throw amongst them. Then we had ropes of pitch, hoops 
bound about with squibs and fireworks to throw among them, 
great store of hand grenades ; and clubs, which we called 
** Hercules Clubs," with heavy heads of wood and nails 
driven into the squares of them. These and some others, 
because the enemy had sworn all our deaths, the General 
provided to entertain and welcome them. 



When it began to grow darkish, a little before low water, 
in the interim while the enemy was a cooling of his ordnance, 
which had played all the day long upon the breach and the 
Old Town : the General taking advantage of this precious 
time, commanded Captain Dexter and Captain Clark with 
some 50 stout workmen, who had a rose-noble [=i6s. Sd.=: 
£^ now] a piece, for a quarter of an hour's work, to get up to 
the top of the breach which the enemy's cannon had made 
very mountable, and then, with all expedition, to cast up a 
small breastwork and drive in as many palisadoes as possibly 
they could : that his brother Sir Horace Vere, and the rest 
of the Captains and soldiers which he commanded, might 
have some little shelter, the better to defend the breach and 
repulse the encni}-, when he stroved to enter. Wiiich, blessed 
be GOD ! with the loss of a few men, they performed. 



This being done. Sir Francis Vere went through the 
Sally Port, down into the I'^alse Bra}'. And it being 



"■""i6."o.] " I SMELL GOOD STORE OF GOLD CHAINS." I 79 

twilight, called for an old soldier, a Gentleman of his com- 
pany, to go owiscntinel-pcrdu [i.e., in a hazardous position], and 
to creep out to the strand between two gabions; giving him 
express command that if he saw an enemy, he should come 
in unto him silently, without giving any alarm at all. 

He crept upon his belly as far as he could ; and, at last, 
discovered Count Farnese above mentioned, wading and 
put over the Old Haven, above their Pile Battery, with his 
2,000 Italians, which were to fall on first : and, as they [had] 
waded over, he drew them up into battalions and divisions : 
which this Gentleman having discovered, came silently to 
Sir Francis Verb, as he had commanded him. Who asked 
him, " What news ? " 

" My Lord," says he, " I smell good store of gold chains, 
buff jerkins, Spanish cassocks [long military cloaks], and 
Spanish blades." 

" Ha ! " say Sir Francis Vere, " sayest thou me so ! I 
hope thou shalt have some of them anon ! " and giving him 
a piece of gold, he went up again through the Sally Port to 
the top of Sand Hill. Where he gave express order to 
Sergeant-Major Carpenter to go to Helmont, and every man 
to his charge ; and not to take any alarm, or shoot off either 
cannon- or musket-shot till he himself gave the signal : and 
then to give fire, both with the ordnance and small shot, as 
fast as ever they could charge and discharge. 

When the enemy had put over his 2,000 Italians ; he had 
also a signal, to give notice thereof to the Count of Bucquoy, 
that they were ready to fall on : whose signal was the shot of 
a cannon from their Pile Battery into the sea towards his 
quarters, with a hollow-holed bullet, which made a humming 
noise. 



When General Vere had got them under the swoop of his 
cannon and small shot, he poured a volley of cannon- and 
musket-shot upon them, raking through their battalions, and 
makes lanes through them upon the bare strand ; which did 
so amaze and startle them, that they were at a non-plus 
whether they should fall on or retreat back again. Yet at 
last taking courage, and tumbling over the dead bodies, they 
rallied themselves and came under the foot of Sand Hill and 



I So The walls of Ostend ablaze with fire. ["'""I'e.a 

along the foot of the Curtain of the Old Wall, to the very 
piles that were struck under the wall, where they began to 
make ready to send us a volley. 

Which Sir Francis Verb seeing they were a presenting, 
and ready to give fire upon us, because indeed all the breast- 
work and parapet was beaten down flat to the rampire that 
day, with their ordnance, and we standing open to the enemy's 
shot, commanded all the soldiers to fall flat down upon the 
ground, while the enemy's shot flew like a shower of hail 
over their heads : which, for the reasons above said, saved a 
great many men's lives. 

This being done ; our men rising, saw the enemy hasting 
to come up to the breach, and mounting up the wall of the 
Old Town. Sir Francis Verb flourishing his sword, called 
to them in Spanish and Italian, Vicnncza / ; causing the 
soldiers, as they climbed up, to cast and tumble down among 
them, the firkins of ashes, the barrels of frize-ruyters, the 
ropes, stones and brickbats which were provided for them. 

The alarm being given, it was admirable to see with what 
courage and resolution our men fought. Yea, the LORD 
did, as it were, infuse fresh courage and strength into a com- 
pany of poor snakes [ ? sneaks or hideaways] and sick soldiers, 
which came running out of their huts up to the wall to fight 
their shares ; and the women with their laps full of powder, 
to supply them, when they had shot away all their ammuni- 
tion. 

Now were all the walls of Ostend all on a light fire, and 
our ordnance thundering upon them, from our Bulwarks. 
Now was there a lamentable cry of d}'ing men among them : 
for they could no sooner come up to the top of the breach to 
enter it, or peep up between Sand Hill and Schottenburch-but 
they were either knocked on the head with the stocks of our 
muskets or our Hercules Clubs, or run through with our 
pikes and swords. Twice or thrice, when they strived to 
enter, they were beaten off, and could get no advantage upon 
us. 

The fight upon the breach and the Old Town continued, 
hotter and hotter, for the space of above an hour. The 
enemy fell on, at the same instant, upon the Porccpic, 
Helniont, the West Ravelin, and Quarrieis ; but were so 
bravely repulsed, that they could not enter a man. 



"' "^'I'e^'S;] Defeated Spaniards retire with loss. i8i 

The enemy fainting, and having had his belly full ; those 
on the west side beat a doleful retreat : while the Lord of 
Hosts ended our dispute for the town, and crowned us with 
victory : and the roaring noise of our cannon rending the air 
and rolling along the superficies of the water, the wind being 
South and with us, carried that night the news thereof, 
to our friends in England and Holland. 

General Verb perceiving the enemy to fall off, commanded 
me to run, as fast as ever I could, to Sergeant-Major Car- 
penter and the Auditor Fleming, who were upon Helmont, 
that they should presently ]at once] open the West Sluice : 
out of which there ran such a stream and torrent, through 
the channel of the West Haven, that, upon their retreat, it 
carried away many of their sound and hurt men into the sea. 
And besides, our men fell [went] down our walls after them, 
and slew a great many of their men as they retreated. They 
took some prisoners, pillaged and stript a great many [of the 
killed', and brought in gold chains, Spanish pistols, buff 
jerkins, Spanish cassocks, blades, swords, and targets [shields] 
(among the rest, one wherein was enamelled in gold, the 
Seven Worthies worth 700 or 800 guilders \=£jo or ;^So= 
:^350 or ;^400 now]). 

Among the rest, was that soldier which Sir Francis Verb 
had sent out to discover ; who came with as much booty as 
ever he could lug, saying, " Sir Francis Vere was now as 
good as his word." 

Under Sand Hill and all along the walls of the Old Town, 
the Porccpic, and West Ravelin, lay whole heaps of dead car- 
cases, 40 or 50 upon a heap, stark naked; goodly young men, 
Spaniards and Italians : among which, some, besides other 
marks to know them by, had their beards clean shaven off. 
There lay also upon the sand some dead horses ; ladencd 
with baskets of hand grenades. They left also behind them 
their scaling ladders, great store of spades and showels 
[shovels], bills, hatchets and axes, with other materials. 



Here the French Diary adds, that those who gave the assault on 
the Old Town, were furnished with two or three day's victuals, which 
they had brought in sacks : intending to have intrenched themselves, 
and maintain the place against the besieged, if their enteri)rise had 



1 82 How THE East Attack was beguiled. ["• 



Hexham. 
? i6io- 



succeeded. Also that, among the heaps of the slain was found, in man's 
apparel, the body of a young Spanish woman, near unto Sand Hill : 
who, as was conjectured by her wounds, had been slain in the assault; 
having under her apparel, a chain of gold set with precious stones, 
besides other jewels and silver. And also that, during this assault, 
the Archduke disposed of himself behind the battery of the Catteys ; 
and the Infanta remained at the Fort Isabella. 



Upon the east side also, they stood in three great battalions 
before the town, upon the Gullet ; but the tide coming in, 
they came too late : so that they could not second those on 
tile west side, and fall on where they were appointed ; to wit, 
upon our New Haven, which lay upon the north-east side of 
the town. For the water beginning to rise, it did amaze the 
soldiers ; and they feared, if they stayed any longer, they 
could not be relieved by their fellows. 

However, for their honour, they would do something : and 
resolved to give upon our Spanish Half-Moon, which lay 
over the Gullet [i.e., on the other side the Geulc from the toivn], 
on the south-east part of the town. 

A soldier of ours falling out of it (a policy of Sir Francis 
Verb's) ; disappointed this design [i.e., of supporting the western 
attack], and yielding himself prisoner unto them, told them 
that there were but 40 soldiers in the Half-Moon ; and offered 
to lead them to it. Which he did, and they took it. For 
General Verb, with great judgement, had left it thus ill-man- 
ned ; to draw the enemy on the east side thither, to separate 
them from their fellows on the west side, and to make them 
lose time : contenting himself to guard the places of most 
importance ; and assuring himself that he should soon 
recover the other at his pleasure. 

The Archduke's men, having thus taken the Half-Moon, 
and being many therein ; they began with spades, shovels, 
pickaxes, and other instruments, to turn it up against the 
town : but all prevailed not, for it lay open towards the town. 
And those of the town began to shoot at them, from the 
South and Spanish Bulwarks, both with cannon- and musket- 
shot, with such fury, that they slew many of them ; and 
withal seeing the tide come in more and more, they began to 
faint. Whereupon (icneral Verb sent Captain Day with 
burnc troops, to beat them out of it; who, with great courage, 



H. nexham.-| Killed AND WOUNDED ON EOTII SIDES. I 8 



o 



chased them out of it, with the effusion of much hlood : for, 
the next day, they told [counted] 300 men shiin in the Half- 
Moon, besides those that were drowned and hurt. 



In this general assault, which, on both sides of the 
town, continued above two hours upon all the places above 
mentioned ; the Archduke, besides some that were carried 
into the sea, lost above 2,000 men. Among the which, 
there were a great number of noblemen, chiefs and com- 
manders : among the rest, the Count d'Imbeko, an Italian 
(who offered as much gold as he did weigh for his 
ransom, yet he was slain by a private soldier) ; Don 
DuRANGO, Maistro del Campo, or Colonel ; Don Alvares 
SuARES, Knight of the Order of St. James ; Simon Anthonio, 
Colonel; the Sergeant-Major-General [POttaxes], who had 
been hostage in Ostend, on the 24th and 25th of December, 
1601 [see pp. 166, 171]; and the Lieutenant-Governor of Ant- 
werp, and divers others. 

On our side, there were slain between 30 and 40 soldiers, 
and about 100 hurt. The men of Command slain were, 
Captain Haughton, Captain van den Lier a Lieutenant of 
the new Gcux, 2 English Lieutenants, an Ancient [Ensign- 
bearer], Captain Haughton's two Sergeants : and Master 
Tedcastle, a Gentleman of Sir Francis Vere's horse, who 
w^as slain between Sir Francis Verb and myself, his Page, 
with two musket-bullets chained together. Who calling to 
me, bade me pull off his gold ring from off his little finger, 
and send it to his sister, as a token of his last " Good night : " 
and so, commending his spirit into the hands of the LORD, 
died. Sir Horace Vere was likewise hurt in the leg, with 
a splinter that flew from a palisado. 



And thus much, brieily, of the assault and the repulse they 
received in Ostend, that day and night ; in memory of the 
heroic actions of Sir Francis Vere, of famous memory, my 
old Master. 

After this bloody shower was once over, the weather cleared up 



184 Vere GIVES UP HIS Command at Ostend. [w. niiungham. 

into its usual temper : and so continued, not ivithout good store of 
artificial thunder and lightning on both sides daily ; but without any 
remarkable alterations, until the 7th of March then next ensuing, 
which was in the year 1602. 

Then did General Vi:kK, having lately repaired the Poulder and 
West Square, resign uj) his government of Ostend unto others 
appointed by the States to succeed him : having valiantly defended 
it, for above eight months, against all the Archduke's power ; and 
leaving it much better able to defend itself, than it was at his first 
coming thither. 

So the same night, both he and his brother. Sir Horace Verb, 
embarked themselves, having sent away their horses and baggage 
before them ; both carrying with them, and leaving behind them, the 
marks of true honour and renown. 



FINIS. 




D I E L L A . 

Certain Sonnets, adjoined 

to the amorous Poem of 
Dom Diego and Gyneura^ 

By R, Z/.j Gentleina?!, 

Ben balla, a chi fortuna suona. 




AT LONDON, 

Printed for Henry Olney, and are to be sold at 

his shop in Fleet street, near the Middle Temple Gate. 

1596. 




IS; 



To the most worthily honoured and 

virtuously beautified Lady, the Lady Anne 

G L E M N H A M, wife to the most 

noble, magnanimous, and worthy Knight, 

Sir H E N R Y G L E M N H A M , &C. 

M A D A M, 

Our many honourable virtues having tied me to 
your eternal service ; to shew some part of my 
duty, I present your Ladyship with a few pas- 
sionate Sonnets intermingled' with the Loves of 
Dom Diego and Gyneura. 

Deign, gentle Lady, to accept them, and therein shew the 
greatness of your benignity, in receiving courteously a gift 
of so small worth ; which though it cannot any ways equal 
either the number of your virtues, or the greatness of that 
noble House, whence your Ladyship is descended ; impute it 
not, Madam, to my defect of Judgement, but of Fortune; 
for were I furnished with the greatest riches that blind 
goddess could bestow on a man of my state, both they and I 
would fall prostrate at your feet, and ever rest at your Lady- 
ship's devotion. 

Yet, Madam, as it is, it is a Child of the Muses, and, there- 
fore, worthy to be cherished ; conceived in the brain of a 
gallant Gentleman, and therefore to be favoured : sent into 
the world by me, who have ever honoured your Ladyship, 
and therefore crave of your Ladyship to be protected, to 
whom I ever wish long life, lengthened with all honourable 

happiness. 

Your Ladyship's 

in all duty, 

Henry O l n e y. 



1 88 




iSq 




[SONNETS.] 




SONNET I. 

Hen first the feathered god did strike my 
heart 
with fatal and immedicable wound, 
Leaving behind the head of his fell dart; 
my bloodless body fell unto tlie ground. 
And, when with shame I reinforced my 
might, 

boldly to gaze on her so heavenly face. 
Huge flames of fire She darted from her light, 

which since have scorched me in most piteous case. 
To quench which heat, an ocean of tears 

have gushed out from forth my red-swollen eyes. 
But deep-fetched sighs, this raging flame uprears, 

and blow the sparks up to the purple skies : 
Whereat, the gods, afraid that heaven should burn, 
Intreated Love, that I, for e'er might mourn. 



190 



D I E L L A . 

SONNET II 



■R. L[inclie?) 




OoN as the azure-coloured Gates of th'East 
were set wide open by the watcliful Morn, 

I walked abroad, as having took no rest 
(for nights are tedious to a man forlorn) ; 
And viewing well each pearl-bedewed flower, 

then waxing dry by splendour of the sun : 
All scarlet-hued I saw him 'gin to lower 

and blush, as though some heinous act were done. 
At this amazed, I hied me home amain, 

thinking that I, his anger caused had. 
And at his set, abroad I walked again ; 

when, lo, the moon looked wondrous pale and sad. 
Anger, the one ; and envy moved the other, 
To see my Love more fair than Love's fair mother. 




SONNET III. 

WiFT-FOOTED Time ! look back ! and here mark well 
those rare-shaped parts my pen shall now declare! 
My Mistress' snow-white Skin doth much excel 
the pure soft wool Arcadian sheep do bear ! 
Her Hair exceeds gold forced in smallest wire, 

in smaller threads than those Arachne spun ! 
Her Eyes are crystal fountains, yet dart fire 
more glorious to behold than midday sun ! 
Her ivory Front, though soft as purest silk, 

looks like the table ^' of Olympic Jove ! ^* po,traH.\ 
Her Cheeks are like ripe cherries laid in milk ! 

her alabaster Neck, the throne of Love ! 
Her other parts so far excel the rest, 
That wanting words, they cannot be expressed ! 



^ L[inche?n 
1596. J 



D I E L L A . 

SONNET IV 



191 




Hat su^^ared terms, what all-persuading art, 

what sweet mellifluous words, what wounding 
looks, 
Love used for his admittance to my heart ! 
such eloquence was never read in books ! 
He promised Pleasure, Rest, and Endless Joy, 

Fruition of the fairest She alive. 
His pleasure, pain; rest, trouble; joy, annoy; 

have I since found ! which me, of bliss deprive. 
The Trojan horse, thus have I now let in ; 

wherein enclosed these armed men were placed. 
Bright Eyes, fair Cheeks, sweet Lips, and milk-white Skin, 

these foes, my life have overthrown and razed. 
Fair outward shews prove inwardly the worst : 
Love looketh fair, but lovers are accurst ! 



SONNET V. 




He little Archer viewing well my Love, 

stone-still amazed, admired such a sight ; 
And swore he knew none such to dwell above : 
though many fair; none, so conspicuous bright ! 
With that enraged, flamigerous as he is, 

he now 'gan loathe his Psyche's lovely face ; 
And swore great oaths, *'to rob me of my bliss," 
saying that " earth for her, was too too base ! " 
But Cytherea checked her lordly son, 

commanding him to bring no giglet thither ! 
Fearing indeed, her amorous sports were done 

with hotspur Mars, if he should once but see her. 
If then her beauty move the gods above ; 
Let all men judge, if I have cause to love ! 



192 



D I E L L A . 



PR. L[inche?] 
L '5^6. 




SONNET VI. 

Irror of Beauty ! Nature's fairest Child ! 

Empress of Love ! my heart's high-prized jewel ! 
Learn of the Dove, to love and to be mild ! 

be not to him that honours thee, so cruel ! 
But as the Asp, deaf, angry, nothing meek ; 

thou will not listen to my doleful plaint ! 
Nor once wilt look on my discoloured cheek ! 

which wanting blood, causeth me oft to faint. 
Then, silent will I be ! if that will please thee : 

yet so, as in my stead, each plain, each hill 
Shall echo forth my grief! and thereby ease me; 

for I myself, of speaking have my fill. 
If plains and hills be silent in my pain ; 
My death shall speak ! and tell what I sustain ! 




S O N N E T V I I . 

\See Vol. I. /•/>. 74, 12S, 460, 651 : P'.f>. 370 : U'l. />. 144.] 

IIen Love had first besieged my heart's strong wall, 
rampiered and countermured with Chastity, 
And had with ordnance made his tops to fall 
stooping their glory to his surquedry : 
I called a parley, and withal did crave 

some Composition, or some friendly Peace; 
To this request, he, his consent soon gave, 

as seeming glad such cruel wars should cease. 
I, nought mistrusting, opened all the gates, 

yea, lodged him in the palace of my heart : 
When, he, in dead of nigiit, he seeks his males, 
And shews each traitor how to play his part ; 
With that, they fired my heart ! and thence 'gan fly! 
Their names. Sweet Smiles, Fair l-'ace, and Piercing Eye. 



R. L[inche 



:he:'n 

1 596. J 



D I E L L A . 

SONNET VIII. 



19: 




'^Ike to a falcon watching for a flight, 

duly attending his desired game ; 
Have I oft watched and marked to have a sight 

of thy fair face, exceeding niggard Fame ! 
Thine eyes, those seminaries of my grief! 

have been more gladsome to my tired sprite, 
Than naked savages receive relief 

by comfort-bearing warmth of Phcebus' light. 
But when each part so glorious I had seen ; 

I trembled more than Autumn's parched leaves ! 
Mine eyes were greedy whirlpools sucking in 

that heavenly Fair, which me of rest bereaves. 
Then as thy Beauty thus hath conquered me, 
Fair ! let relenting Pity conquer thee ! 




ENG. 



SONNET IX. 

Lot not thy beauty (Fairest, yet unkind !) 

with cruel usage of a yielding heart ! 
The stoutest Captain scorns such bloody mind : 

then mingle mercy, where thou causedst smart ! 
Let him not die, in his May-springing days ! 

that living, vows to honour thee for ever. 
Shine forth some pity from thy sun-like rays ! 

that hard-fro2ed hate may so dissolve and sever ! 
O were thou not much harder than a Hint, 

thou hadst ere this, been melted into love ! 
In firmest stone, small rain doth make a print : 

but seas of tears cannot thy hardness move ! 
Then, wretched I, must die beff)re my time ! 
Blasted and spoiled in my budding prime. 
Gar. VII. i^ 



194 



D I E L L A , 

SONNET X . 



'R. Uinchc?) 
1596. 




Hen Flora vaunts her in her proud array, 
elothing fair Tellus in a spangled gown ; 
\Vhen Boreas' fury is exiled away, 

and all the welkin cleared from angry frown : 
At that same time, all Nature's children joy ; 

trees leave, flowers bud, plants spring, and beasts increase. 
Only my soul, surcharged with deep annoy, 

cannot rejoice, nor sighs nor tears can cease : 
Only the grafts of sorrow seem to grow ; 

set in my heart, no other spring I find. 
Delights and pleasures are o'ergrown with woe, 
laments and sobs possess my w^eeping mind. 
The frost of grief so nips Delight at root : 
No sun but She can do it any boot. 




SONNET XI. 

Hat She can be so cruel as my Love, 
or bear a heart so pitiless as She ? 
Whom love, looks, words, tears, prayers do not 
move ; 
nor sighs, nor vows prevail to pity me. 
She calls my love, "a Sinon to her heart!" 

'* my looks," she saith, " are like the crocodile's ! " 
" My words the Sirens sing, with guileful art ! " 

tears, "Circe's floods!" sighs, vows, "deceitful guiles!" 
But my poor heart hath no interpreter 

but love, looks, words, tears, prayers, sighs, or vows ! 
Then must it die I sith She, my comforter, 

whate'er I do, nor liketh, nor allows. 
With TiTius, thus the vulture Sorrow eats me! 
With stccl-twigged rods, thus tyrant Cui'iD beats me I 



^ 2 



R.L[inchenj D I ELLA. 195 

SONNET XII. 

Hou (like the fair-faced, gold-encovered book, 
whose lines are stuffed with damned heresies) 

Dost in thy face, bear a celestial look ; 

when, in thy heart, live hell-born cruelties ! 
With poisonous toads, the clearest spring 's infected; 

and purest lawn 's nought worth, if full of stains : 
So is fair Beauty, when true love 's rejected ; 

when coal-black hate within the heart remains. 
Then love, my Dear ! let that be Methridate 

to overcome the venom of disdain ! 
Be pitiful ! tread dow^n this killing hate ! 

Convert to sugared pleasure, gall-ful pain ! 
O, sith Disdain is foe unto thy Fair, 
Exile him thence ! there, let him not repair ! 




SONNET XIII. 

Know, within my mouth, for bashful fear 

and dread of your disdain, my words will die ! 
I know, I shall be stricken dumb, my Dear ! 
with doubt of your unpitiful reply. 
I know, when as I shall before you lie 

prostrate and humble, craving help of you ; 
Misty aspects will cloud your sun-bright eye, 

and scornful looks o'ershade your beauty's hue. 
I know, when I shall plead my love so true, 
so stainless, constant, loyal, and upright; 
My truthful pleadings will not cause you rue 

The ne'er-heard state of my distressed plight. 
I know, when I shall come with face bedight 

with streaming tears, fallen from my fountain eyes, 



196 



Dip:/, l a . 
vS O N N E T XIII. 



R. I,(inche? 
1596 



[The same number is repeated, a kind of double Sonnet on tlie same thought, being attempted.] 




Reatiiing forth sighs of most heart-breaking might, 
my tears, my sighs, and me, you will despise I 
I know, when with the power that in me lies, 
and all the prayers and vows that women move, 
I shall in humblest mercy-moving wise, 

intreat, beseech, desire, and beg your love : 
I know, sweet Maiden ! all will not remove 

liint-hearted rigour from your rocky breast ! 
Ikit all my means, my suit, and what I prove, 

prove bad, and I must live in all unrest. 
Dying in life, and living still in death, 
And vet nor die, nor draw a life-like breath. 




SONNET XIV. 

Men broad-faced rivers turn unto their fountains 
and hungry wolves devoured are by sheep ; 

When marine dolphins play on snow-tipped moun- 
tains, 

and foul-formed bears do in the ocean keep : 
Then shall I leave to love, and cease to burn 

in these hot llames,- wherein I now delight ! 
But this I know, the rivers ne'er return, 

nor silly sheep with ravening wolves dare fight. 
Nor dolphins leave the seas, nor bears, the woods; 

for Nature bids them all to keep their kind. 
Then eyes, rain forth your over-swelled tloods, 

till, drowned in such seas, may make you blind ! 
Then, Heart's Delight ! siih I must love thee ever. 
Love m.e again ! and let tliy love persever ! 



R. L[inch 



1596.J 



D I E L L A . 

SONNET XV 



197 




SOONER leaves Hyperion, Thetis' bed, 

and mounts his coach to post from thence away; 
j Richly adorning fair Leucothea's head, 

giving to mountains, tincture from his ray : 
But straight I rise, where I could find no rest, 

where visions and fantasies appear ; 
And when, with small ado, my body 's dresst, 

abroad I walk, to think upon my Dear ! 
Where, under umbrage of some aged tree, 

with lute in hand I sit and, sighing, say, 
*' Sweet groves, tell forth with echo, what you see ! 

good trees, bear witness, who is my decay ! 
And thou, my soul, speak ! speak w^hat rest I have. 
When each our joy's despair doth make me rave 1 " 




SONNET XVI. 

Ut thou, my dear sweet-sounding lute, be still ! 
repose thy troubled strings upon this moss ! 
Thou hast full often eased me 'gainst my will : 
lie down in peace, thy spoil were my great loss ! 
I'll speak enough of her too cruel heart, 

enough to move the stony rocks to ruth ! 
And cause these trees weep tears to hear my smart, 

though cruel She will not once weigh my truth. 
Her face is of the purest while and red, 

her eyes are crystal, and her hair is gold. 
The World, for shape with garlands crown her head, 

and yet a tigress' heart dwells in this mould. 
But I must love her. Tigress ! too too much ! 
Forced; must I love! because 1 hnd none such. 



198 



D I E L L A 



PR. L[inchc?] 

L 1596- 



SONNET X\'II. 

Hi': sun-scorched seaman, when he sees the seas, 

all in a fury, hoist him to the sky ; 
And throw him down again, as waves do please, 

(so chased clouds, from /Eol's mastiffs fly !) 
In such distress, provideth with great speed 

all means to save him from the tempest's rage 
He shews his wit, in such like time of need, 

the big swoll'n billows' fury to assuage. 
But foolish I, althouth I see my death, 

and feel her proud disdain too feelingly 
(Which me of all felicity bereaveth) : 

yet seek no means t' escape this misery. 
80 am I charmed with heart-enchanting beauty, 
That still to wail, I think it is my duty. 



SONNET X \M I I . 




Urin had done some heinous act or other, 

that caused Idalea whip him very sore. 
The stubborn boy away runs from his mother, 

protesting stoutly to return no more. 
By chance, I met him ; who desired relief, 

and craved that I, some lodging would him give. 
Pitying his looks, which seemed drowned in grief, 

I took him home ; there thinking he should live. 
But see the Boy ! Envying at my life 

(\\ iiich never sorrow, never love had tasted). 
He raised within my heart such uncouth strife ; 

that, with the same, my body now is wasted, 
By thankless Love, thus vilely am I used ! 
By using kindness, I am thus abused ; 



R. L[inche?"; 



che?";"| 
I5r,6.j 



D I E L L A . 

SONNET XIX. 



199 




Hen Ni.^ht returns back to his ugly mansion, 

and clear-faced Morning makes her bright uprise; 
In sorrow's depth, I murmur out his cantion 

(salt tears distilling from my dewy eyes), 
" thou deceitful Somnus, god of dreams ! 

cease to afflict my over-pained sprite 
With vain illusions, and idle themes ! 

thy spells are false! thou canst not charm aright! 
For when, in bed, I think t'embrace my Love 

(enchanted by thy magic so to think), 
Vain are my thoughts ! 'tis empty air, I prove ! 

that still I wail, till watching make me wink: 
And when I wink, I wish I ne'er might wake, 
But sleeping, carried to the Stygian lake." 




SONNET XX. 

He strongest pine, that Queen Feroxia hath, 

growing within her woody empiry, 
Is soon thrown down by Boreas' wintry wrath, 

it one root only his supporter be. 
The tallest ship that cuts the angry wave, 

and plows the seas of Saturn's second sun. 
If but one anchor for a journey have, 

when that is lost, 'gainst every rock doth run. 
I am that pine, fair Love ! that ship am I ! 

and thou, that anchor art and root to me ! 
If then thou fail (O fail not !) I must die ! 

and pine away in endless misery ! 
But words prevail not ! nor can sighs devise 
To move thy heart, if bent to tyrannize. 



200 



D 1 E L L A 



TR. L[inche?l 
L 1596. 



SONNET XXI 



T^. 



\U 



'S winter's rage, young plants unkindly spilleth ; 

as hail, green corn; and lightnings, flowers perish; 
vSo man's decay is Love I whose heart it killetb, 

if in his soul, he carefully it cherish. 
O how alluringly he offers grace ; 

and breathes new hope of life into our thought. 
With cheerful, pleasant (yet deceitful) face 

he creeps and fawns, till, in his net w' are caught ; 
Then, when he sees us captives by him led, 

and sees us prostrate, humbly craving help, 
So fierce a lion, Lybia never bred ! 

nor adder's sting ! nor any tigress' whelp ! 
O blest be they that never felt his force ! 
Love hath, nor pity, mercy, nor remorse ! 



SONNET XXII. 




j|OoK, as a bird, through sweetness of the call, 

doth clean forget the fowler's guileful ti-ap; 
Or one that gazing on the stars, doth fall 

in some deep pit, bewailing his mishap : 
So wretched I, whilst, with Lynceus' eyes, 

I greedily beheld her angel's face, 
Was straight entangled with such subtilties, 

as, ever since, I live in woful case. 
Her cheeks were roses laid in crystal glass ; 

her breasts, two apples of Hesperides; 
Her voice, more sweet than famous Tiiamikas, 

reviving death with I)i)ric melodies : 
I, hearkening so to this attractive call. 
Was caught, and ever since have lived in thrall. 



R. LLinche?! 



:he?n 
1596J 



D I E L L A . 

S X X E T XXIII. 



201 




^Y life's presen'er ! hope of my heart's IdHss ! 

when shall I know the doom of life or death ? 
Hell's fearful torments easier are, than this 

soul's agony, wherein I now do breathe. 
If thou wouldst look ! this my tear-stained face, 

dreary and wan, far differing from what it was. 
Would well reveal my most tormentful case, 

and shew thy Fair, my Grief as in a glass. 
Look, as a deer late wounded very sore, 

among the herd, full heavily doth feed ; 
So do I live ! expecting evermore, 

when as my wounded heart should cease to bleed. 
How patient then, would I endure the smart 
Of pitchy-countenanced Death's dead-doing dart ! 




SONXET XXIV. 

[Hen leaden-hearted sleep had shut mine eyes, 
and close o'erdrawn their windowlets of liglit ; 
Whose wateriness the fire of grief so dries, 

that weep they could no longer, sleep they might ! 
Methought, I sank down to a pool of grief, 

and then, methought, such sinking much did please me : 
But when I, down was plunged past all relief; 

with flood-filled mouth, I called that some would cast; me! 
Whereat, methought, I saw my dearest Love, 

fearing my drowning, reach her hand to mine; 
Who pulled so hard to get me up above, 

that with tlie pull, sleep did forsake mine eyen. 
But when awaked, I saw 'twas but a dream ; 
I wished to have slept, and perished in that stream. 



202 



D I E L L A 



TR. L[inche?] 
L 15CA 



SONNET XXV. 



SE 



OuGH storms have calms, Inpt bouj:,^hs do grow again; 
the naked Winter is reclothed by Spring ; 
No }ear so dry but there doth fall some rain ; 
Nature is kind, save me, to everything. 
Only my griefs do never end nor cease ! 

no ebb doth follow my still-Howing tears ! 
My sighs are storms, which never can appease 

their furious blasts, procured by endless cares ! 
Then Sighs and Sobs tell Tantalus, " he's blest ! " 

go fly to TiTius, tell him " he hath pleasure ! " 
So tell IxiON " though his wheel ne'er rest ; 

his pains are sports, imposed with some measure ! " 
Ijid them be patient ! bid them look on me, 
And they shall sec the Map of Misery. 



SONNET XXVI. 

II B love-hurt heart, which tyrant CuriD wounds, 
(proudly insulting o'er his conquered prey) 
Doth bleed afresh where pleasure most abounds: 
for Mirth and Mourning always make a fray. 
Lo )k, as a bird sore bruised with a blow 

(lately dividing notes most sweetly singing), 
To hear her fellows, how in tunes they flow, 

doth droop and pine, as though her knell were ringing. 
The heavy-thoughted prisoner, full of doubt, 

dolefully sitting in a close-barred cage, 
Is half contented ; till he looketh out. 

he sees each free : then storms he in a rage ! 
The sight of Pleasure trebleth every pain ; 
As small brooks swell, and are enraged with ruin. 




R.L[ind.r,J D I ELL A. 203 

SONNET XXVII. 

He lieaven's herald may not make compare 

of working words, which so abound in thee. 

Thy honey-dewed tongue exceeds his far, 

in sweet discourse and tuneful melody. 

Th' amber-coloured tress which Berenice 

for her true-loving Ptholomeus, vowed 

Within Idalea's sacred Aphrodrice, 

is worthless, with thy locks to be allowed. 
To thee, my thoughts are consecrate, dear Love ! 

my words and phrases bound to please thine ears ! 
My looks are such, as any heart could move : 

I still solicit thee with sighs and tears ! 
O let not hate eclipse thy beauty's shine ! 
Then none would deem thee earthly, but divine. 




SONNET XXVIII. 

[Kary with serving, where I naught could get ; 

I thought to cross great Neptune's greatest seas. 
To live in exile : but my drift was let 
by cruel Fortune, spiteful of such ease. 
The ship I had to pass in, was my Mind ; 

greedy Desire was topsail of the same. 
My Tears were surges, Sighs did serve for wind, 

of all my ship. Despair was chiefest frame ; 
Sorrow was Master, Care, the cable rope ; 

Grief was the mainmast; Love, the captain of it ; 
He that did rule the helm was foolish Hope, 

but Beauty was the rock that my ship split, 
\Vhich since hath made such shipwreck of m}' Joy, 
That still I swim in th' ocean of Annoy. 



204 



D 1 /■: I. L A . 
SONNET XXIX. 



rU. LLincIieri 
L i:-y6. 




Ease, Eyes, to cherish with still flowing tears, 
the ahnost withered roots of dying grief! 
Dry up }our running brooks! and dam }our meres! 
and let my body die for moist relief! 
But Death is deaf! for well he knows my pain,- 

my slackless pain, hell's horror doth exceed. 
There is no hell so black as her disdain I 

whence cares, sighs, sorrows, and all griefs do breed. 
Instead of sleep, when day incloistered is 

in dusty prison of infernal nigiit. 
With broad-waked eyes, I wail my miseries; 

and if I wink, I fear some ugly sight, 
Such fearful dreams do haunt my troul^lcd mind : 
My Love 's the cause, 'cause She is so unkind. 




SONNET XXX. 

M THAT can count the candles of the sky, 
reckon the sands whereon Pactolus Hows, 
Or number numberless small atomie^s', 

what strange and hideous monsters Nilus shows, 
What mis-shaped beasts vast Africa doth yield, 

what rare-formed fishes live in the ocean, 
\\'hat coloured flowers do grow in Tempe's field, 

how many hours are since the world began : 
Let him, none else, give judgement of my grief! 

let him declare the beauties of my Love ! 
And he will say my pains pass all relief : 

and he will judge her for a Saint above I 
r>ut, as those things, there's no man can unfold 
So, nor her l-'air, nor ni}- Grief ma\" be told ! 



R. L[inche?1"] 
1596.J 



D I E L L A . 

SONNET XXXI. 



20: 




Air ivory Brow, the board Love banquets on ! 
sweet Lips of coral hue, but silken softness ! 
Fair Suns that shine, when Phcebus' eyes are ^one! 
sweet Breath that breathes incomparable sweet- 
ness ! 
Fair Cheeks of purest roses red and white ! 

sweet Tongue containing sweeter thing than sweet ! 
O that my Muse could mount a lofty flight, 
and were not all so forceless, and unmeet 
To blaze the beauty of thy several shine. 

And tell the sweetness of thy sundry taste ! 
Able of none but of the Muses nine, 

to be arightly honoured and graced. 
The first so fair, so bright, so purely precious ! 
The last so sweet, so balmy, so delicious ! 






SONNET XXXII. 

He last so sweet, so balmy, so delicious ! 

lips, breath, and tongue, which I delight to 
drink on : 
The first so fair, so bright, so purely precious! 
brow, eyes, and cheeks, which still I joy to 
think on ; 
But much more joy to gaze, and aye to look on. 

those lily rounds which ceaseless hold their moving. 
From whence my prisoned eyes would ne'er be gone ; 

which to such beauties are exceeding loving. 
O that I might but press their dainty swelling! 

and thence depart, to which must now be hidden, 
And which my crimson verse abstains from telling; 

because by chaste ears, I am so forbidden. 
There, in the crystal-paved Vale of Pleasure, 
Lies locked up, a world of richest treasure. 



2o6 



D T F. L L A . 



ru. L[incl 



fjo. 




SONNET XXXIII. 

MiNKiNG to close my over-watched eyes, 

and stop tlie sluice of their uncessant flowing ; 
I laid me down ; when each one 'gan to rise : 

new risen Sol his flame-like countenance shewing. 
But Grief, though drowsy ever, yet never sleeps ; 

but still admits fresh intercourse of thought : 
Duly the passage of each hour he keeps, 

nor would he suffer me with sleep be caught. 
Some broken slumbers, Morpheus had lent 

(who greatly pitied my want of rest) ; 
Whereat my heart, a thousand thanks him sent : 

and vowed, to serve him he was ready prcst. 
Let restless nights, days, hours do their spite; 
I'll love her still ! and Love for me shall fight ! 



SONNET XXXIV. 




Illv should a Maiden's heart be of that proof 

as to resist the sharp-pointed dart of Love ? 
.My Mistress' eye kills strongest man aloof; 

methinks, he's weak, that cannot quail a Dove ! 
A lovely Dove so fair and so divine, 

able to make what cynic soe'er liveth, 
Upon his knees, to beg of their bright eyen, 

one smiling look, which life from death reviveth. 
The frozen heart of cold Zhnocrates 

had been dissolved into hot Desire, 
Had Phryne cast such sunbeams from her eyes 

(such eyesare cause that my heart flames in fire !) : 
And yet with patience I must take my woe; 
In that m\- dearest Love will have it so. 



R. L[inrhe?l 



D I E L L A . 



207 



SONNET XXXV 




|Xd this enchantment, Love ! of my desires ! 
let me no longer languish for thy love ! 
Joy not, to see me thus consume in fires ! 
but let my cruel pains, thy hard heart move ! 
And now, at last, with pitiful regard, 

eye me, thy lover ! 'lorn for lack of thee ! 
Which, dying, lives in hope of sweet reward, 

which hate hath hitherto withheld from me. 
Constant have I been, still in Fancy fast, 

ordained by heavens to doat upon my Fair, 
Nor will I e'er, so long as life shall last, 

say any " 's fairer ! breathing vital air." 
But when the ocean sands shall lie unwet ; 
That shall my soul, to love thee, Dear ! forget ! 



SONNET XXXVI. 



Ong did I wish, before I could attain 

the looked-for sight, I so desired to see ; 
Too soon, at last I saw what bred my bane, 
and ever since hath sore tormented me. 
I saw Herself, whom had I never seen, 

my wealth of bliss had not been turned to bale. 
Greedy regard of Her, my heart's sole queen, 

hath changed my summer's sun to winter's hail. 
How oft have I, since that first fatal hour, 

beheld her all-fair shape with begging eye. 
Till She, unkind, hath killed me with a lower, 

and bade my humble-suing looks look by. 
O pity me, fair Love ! and highest fame 
Shall blazed be, in honour of thy name. 



208 



D I E I. L A 



rU. Lfinchp?] 



SONNET XXXVII. 




Id I not love her as a lover ought, 

Nviih purest zeal and faithfulness of heart ; 
Then She had cause to set my love at naught, 
and I had well deserved to feel this smart! 
But holding her so dearly as I do, 

as a rare jewel of most high esteem ; 
She most unkindly wounds and kills me, so, 

my ne'er-stained troth most causeless to misdeem ! 
Never did one account of woman more 

than I of her ! nor ever woman yet 
Respected less, or held in lesser store 

her lover's vows, than She hy mine doth set ! 
What resteth then ? but I despair and die 1 
That so my death may glut her ruthless eye. 




SONNET XXXVIII. 

[This is a Preface to the following Poem.] 

Earken awhile, Diella ! to a story 

that tells of Beauty, Love, and great Disdain ! 
The last, caused by suspect ; but She was sorry 
that took that cause, true love so much to pain. 
For when She knew his faith to be unfeigned, 

spotless, sincere, most true and pure unto her; 
She joyed as if a kingdom She had gained ; 

and loved him now, as when he hrst did woo her. 
I ne'er incurred suspicion of my truth ; 

fairest Diella ! why wilt thou be cruel ? 
Impose some end to undeserved ruth ! 

and learn by others, how to quench hate's fuel ! 
Read all, my Dear! but chieily mark the end! 
And be to mc, as She to Him, a friend ! 



209 




T'he love of Dom Diego and 

G YNEURA. 




[The groundwork of this Poem was probably the " Discourse" at folios 
234-271 of Geoffrey Fenton's Certaine Tragical Discourses written out 
of French a)id Latin. London, 1579. 4to.] 

N Catalonie o'erpeered by Pyren mountains 
(a Province seated in the East of Spain, 
Famous for hunting sports and clearest 
fountains), 
a young heroic Gallant did remain : 
He, Signior Dom Diego had to name. 
Who for his constant faith had got such fame. 

Nature had tried her deepest skill on him 

(for so the Heaven-born Powers had her desired), 

With such perfection framed she each limb 
that at her own work she herself admired. 

Majestic Jove gave him a Princely grace : 
Apollo, wit; and Venus gave his face. 

This lovesome j^outh, kind Nature's fairest child, 
what for his beauteous love-alluring face. 

And for he was so gracious and so mild, 
was deemed of all, to be of heavenly race : 

Men honoured him, and maidens gave him love; 

To make him famous, men and maidens strove. 

EXG. Cak. vii. j 1 



2 lO TlfE L0]'E OF DoM DlEGO AXD GyNEURA. [''• ^'^'''f^^l 

Iluntinj^ he loved, nor did he scorn to love, 

(a truer-loving heart was never known!) 
Which well his Mistress cruelly did prove ; 

whose causeless rigour, Fame abroad hath blown. 
But now let's tell, how he, on hunting, went ; 
And in what sports such pleasant time he spent. 



Soon as the sun had left his water}- bed 

(blushing for shame, that he so long had slept), 

Reviving those, which dusky night made dead ; 
when for his welcome, lambs on mountains leapt : 

Up starts Diego, and with shrill-voiced horn, 

Tells hounds and huntsmen of a clear-faced morn. 

Clothed all in green, Svlvaxus' livery, 
he wore a low-crowned hat of finest silk, 

Whose brim turned up, was fastened with a ruby, 
and underneath, a pearl as white as milk ; 

A sleeveless coat of damask, richly laced 

With Indian pearl, as thick as could be placed. 

A glistering cutlass pendent by his side 

(he much esteemed that beast-dismembering blade); 
And half-legged buskins curiously ytied 

with loops of burnished gold full finely made : 
Thus goes Diego, chiefest of his name, 
With silver-headed spear, to find some game. 

Long while it was, ere any sport began ; 

at last, a hart his big-grown horns did shew, 
Which (winding, straigb.t the huntsman) 'gan to run 

As fast as arrow from a Parthian bow : 
In whose pursuit, by will of powerful Fates, 
Diego lost himself, and all his mates. 



R. i-[i"che^']J The Love op Dom Diego a. yd Gyneura. 211 

Left thus alone, in midst of unknown place, 

he invocates the favourable aid 
Of Ariadne, who, with smallest lace, 

freed monster-killing Theseus, so dismayed: 
In worser labyrinth, did he now remain; 
For none save trees or beasts could hear him 'plain. 



In these meanders, straggling here and there, 
goes fair Diego, listening to each sound : 

Musing 'twixt purple hope and palish fear, 

he thought to rest him, wearied, on the ground. 

But see, he hears afar some forced noise ; 

A horn ! a hound ! or else some human voice ! 

With that, desire (which scorns least tedious let) 

directed him unto that very place ; 
When lo, to hunt the timorous hare, were met 

as Knights, so Ladies fittest for that chase : 
'Mongst which, there came a Grace of hea\enly fair, 
Her name, " Gyneura with the golden hair." 

Her Hair of such coruscant glitterous shine, 
as are the smallest streams of hottest sun. 

Like stars in frosty night, so look her Eyen, 
within whose arches crystal springs do run. 

Her Checks, fair shew of purest porphyr}-, 

Full curiously were tipped with roseal die. 

Her Lips like ripened cherries seemed to be, 
from out whose concave coral-seeming fount, 

Came sweeter Breath than musk of Araby ; 

whose Teeth, the white of blanched pearl surmount 

Her Neck, the lilies of Liguria 

Did much excel. Thus looked fair Gyneura. 



rR I.finche?] 



212 The Love of Dom Diego axd Gyneura. [ 

Tliese Dryades, Diego then bespake 
with sugared terms of mildest courtesy, 

And craved to know which way he best might take, 
with shortest cut, to such a Signiory ; 

Whereat he named himself: when presently 

The ladies knew him, as a neighbour by. 



Gyneura's mother, chief of all the rest, 
for that she knew his birth and his descent, 

Desired him home. He grants her such request, 
and thanks the Fates that him such hap hath lent : 

For still on fair Gyneura were his eyes; 

And she, reciprocally, on his replies. 

These dumb ambassadors. Love's chief combatants, 
tell (softly whispering in each other's heart) 

Her, of humble service ; him, of acceptance : 

His craved love ; hers wished they ne'er might part. 

Much talk they had with tongues, more with their eyes; 

But, O, most with their hearts ! where true love lies. 

Now were they come, where as the good old lady 

might boldly welcome her invited guest. 
Where, after little talk (hunters are hungry ! ) 

they all sat down unto a soon-made feast : 
The lovers fed on glances of their eyes. 
'Tis heavenly food, when both do sympathize ! 

At last, the lady of the house espied 

the intercourse of those bright messengers; 

Who, inwardly rejoicing, as fast plied 
hers on her daughter, fittest harbingers 1 

To bid her keep the fairest and the best 

Place in her heart, to entertain this guest. 



R '•[i"'^hc?]-j j-^jj. Love of Dom Diego axd Gyneura. 21, 

Word back again was sent, by her fair light, 
how that was done already ! and replied, 

" The landlord o'er his tenant hath such might 
that he to enter in, is ne'er denied. 

I, in a little corner of my heart, 

Do live," quoth she, " he hath the greatest part ! " 



Diego wished this supper ne'er would end ! 

and yet, he longed to be in private place, 
To ruminate upon his fairest friend, 

and to recount the beauties of her face : 
So wished Gyneura ! Were never such two 
That loved so dearly as these lovers do ! 

The gloomy curtains of the tongueless night 
were drawn so close, as day could not be seen : 

Now, leaden-thoughted Morpheus dims each sight ! 
now, murder, rapes, and robberies begin! 

Nature craved rest : but restless Love would none ! 

Diego, Love's young prentice, thus 'gan moan : 

" O heavens ! what new-found griefs possess my mind I 

what rare impassionated fits be these ! 
Cold-burning fevers in my heart I find, 

whose opposite effects work me no ease. 
Then Love assails the heart with hottest fight, 
When Beauty makes her conquest at first sight." 

" I little dreamed of this strange event, 
this heart's enthraller, mind's-disturbing Love, 

When, with my huntsmen to the woods I went 1 
O ne'er till now, did I his greatness prove, 

Whose first impression in the lover's heart, 

Till then ne'er tainted, bringeth deepest smart." 



2 14 ^^^^ Love of Dom Diego axd Gy^vel^ka. \^ ^^^'"','5^6. 

Thus lay Diego, tossing in his bed, 

bound to the will of all-commanding Beauty ; 

Whom angry Cupid now in triumph led, 
expecting from his slave all servile duty. 

He might have freed his prisoner so dismayed ! 

For sighs and groans had double ransom paid. 

In like extremes (Love loves extremity !) 

did fair Gyneuka pass the long-thought night ; 

She railed against fell Cupid's cruelty 

that so would tyrannize o'er a maiden's sprite. 

** There needs no blows," quoth she, " when foes do yield! 

O cease ! take thou the honour of the held ! " 

The valiant Greeks, fair Ilion's fatal foes, 

their tedious ten years' siege for Sparta's Queen, 

Ne'er thought so long (yet long it was !) as those 
love-scorched enamoured (so restless !) now ween 

This night to be ! A night, if spent in care, 

Seems longer than a thousand pleasant are. 

Thus lay they, sleepless, thoughtful, ever thinking 

on sluggish humour of expected Morn, 
They thought that lover's eyes were never winking ! 

nor sleep they e'er, in whom Love 's newly born. 
He vowed, when day was come, to woo his Dear ! 
She swore, such wooing she would gladly hear! 

At last, the Guiderof the fiery coach, 

drying his locks, wet in Eurolas' llond, 
*Gan re-salute the world with bright approach. 

angry he seemed, for all his face was blood ; 
Aurora's haste had made him look so red, 
For lolh he was. to leave lair TilETls' bed. 



R. L'inchc 



^■•-'1 The Love of Dom Diego axd Gyxeuka. 21 ^ 

J ay J. J u 

Scarce were his horses put in readiness, 
and he himself full mounted on his seat, 

When Dom Diego, full of heaviness, 

abroad did walk, his night- talk to repeat. 

Some two hours spent, he in again retires ; 

And sees his Mistress, whom he now admires. 



Whereat inflamed (Love brooks no brief delay 
whose fruit is danger, whose reward is pain), 

With fine-filed terms, he gives her the " good day ! " 
and blushing, she returns it him again. 

Endymion's blush, her beauty did eclipse ; 

His caused, by Cynthia's; hers. Adonis's lips. 

Boldly encouraged by her mild aspect, 

he told her that which lovers choose to tell ; 

How he did live by her fair eyes' reflect ! 

and how his heart, in midst of hers did dwell ! 

Much eloquence was used ('twas needless done !) 

To win that heart, which was already won. 

Ne'er did the dungeon thief, condemned to die, 
with greater pleasure hear his pardon read, 

Than did Gyneura hear his oratory, 
of force sufficient to revive the dead. 

She needs must yield ! for, sure, he had the art, 

With amorous heat to fix Diana's heart ! 

These lovers, thus in this both-pleasing parley, 
were interrupted by Gyneuka's mother, 

Who, newly up (Age seldom riseth early !), 
'gan straight salute her guest. So did he her. 

Some terms of kindness mutually past. 

She friendly leads him in, to break his fast. 



2i6 The Love op Dom Diego and Gyaeura. [^•^^'"'^S. 

Which done, as all ^^ood manners did require, 
he thanked his hostess for her courtesy; 

And now, at length, went home for to retire 
(where he was looked for so earnestly). 

The Lady craved, if e'er he came that way, 

To see her house, and there to make some stay. 

Then heavily, and with a dying eye, 

joyless, he takes his leave of his fair Love : 

Who for to favour him, full graciously 

with loving countenance, gave to him her glove. 

" Keep this," quoth she, " till better fortune fall : 

My glove, my love, my hand, my heart, and all ! " 

At this large offer, bashful modesty, 

with pure vermilion stained her all fair face, 

(So looked Calystone at her great belly 

when chaste Ilythia spied her in such case.) 

Let lovers judge ! how grievous 'tis to part 

From two, 'twixt whom there liveth but one heart. 

Now is he gone who, after little travel, 

attained his house, not pleasing thought desired. 

At whose late absence each one much did marvel : 
but, come ; at his sad looks, they more admired, 

Great Cupid's power, such sadness in him bred; 

Who, erst, all loving hearts in triumph led. 

One month, consumed in pensiveness, expired. 

to recreate and revive his tired sprite ; 
He now on hunting goes, which he desired 

not for the, once well pleasing, sport's delight : 
But for he might some fit occasion find 
To seek his Love, on whom was all his mind. 



R.L[inch<.'.-j y^^^^ ^^^.^ OF DoM Diego and Gvxel'k.l 217 

Where being come (suppose his sports proved bad !) 
Gyxeura gave him welcome from her heart. 

The sea-tossed Lord of Ithaca ne'er had, 
after his twenty years' turmoil and smart, 

More joyful welcome by his constant wife, 

Than had Diego from h's Love ! his Life ! 

Two days he stayed, whence he would ne'er depart, 
but custom willed that he should now return. 

Yet though he went, he left with her his heart ; 
which for their parting, heavily 'gan mourn. 

But far worse news had it (poor heart !) to grieve, 

In that, Gyxeura would so soon believe. 

For sooner was he not departed thence, 
but straight there comes a rival to his love ; 

Who under true fidelity's pretence 

wrought wondrous hard, Diego to remove. 

Nor could, at first, his oaths or vows prevail 

To make Gyneura's love one whit to fail. 

For, yet, they lived fast bound in Fancy's chains, 

striving to pass each other in pure love : 
J}ut as there's nothing that for aye remains 

without some change ; so do these lovers prove 
That hottest Love hath soon'st the cold'st Disdain; 
And greatest pleasures have their greatest pain ! 

For, now, no longer could She so persever. 

She turns to deadly hate, her former kindness: 
Which still had lasted, but that Nature ever 

strikes into women's eyes, such dim-sight blindness; 
And such obdurate hardness in their hearts, 
They see, nor know not truest love's deserts. 



2 18 The Love of Dom Diego and Gyxeura. [^^' ^^'"'^^'g^'. 

Gyneura this confirms against her lover, 

whom now, all guiltless, She condemns to die : 

That, in his deed or thought, did ne'er offend her, 
unless hy loving her so wondrous dearly. 

Such love, such hate, such liking, such disdain, 

Was never known, in one heart to remain. 

Thus 'twas. Diego had an enemy; 

(immortal Virtue ever linked is 
With that pale lean-faced meagre-hued Envy) 

who, secretly, so falsely, tells his Miss. 
How she was mocked ! Diego loved another ! 
And stormed and raged, " W^iat madness so should move 
her 

To dote on him, that elsewhere sets his love ? " 

" He makes you think," quoth he, " whate'er he list ! 

That this is true, you easily may prove ! 
for still he wears her favour on his fist. 

A hawk it is ! which she (so stands the Mart) 

Gives him ! He, you fair words ; but her, his heart ! " 

With this incensed (that sex will soon believe, 
soonest when Envy's brood to them display it), 

** Is't true ? " quoth She, " for true love, doth he give 
such smoothed-faced flattery! doth he thus repay it ? " 

She never scanned the truth of this her grief! 

Love, in such cases, is of quick belief. 

Ilcr l()\e to him was never half so great 

(though once she loved him) as is now her hate I 

This MoMUvS breath, like bellows to her heat 
did kindle fiery coals to hot debate. 

He plies her, and exasperates his spite ! 

And swears and vows he ''tells her but the right." 



R. I.[inche 



S'.] The Love oe Dom Diego axd Gyneura. 219 

She, like a frantic Froe of Thessaly, 

madded with Bacchus' brain-distempering liquor, 
Runs here and there, exclaiming furiously, 

with hideous, uncouth, mind-affrighting terror ; 
Swearing revenge on false Diego's head, 
Whose lying looks, in her such madness bred. 



Wherewith she invocates great Nemesis, 

and begs the power of her deity : 
She tells her case to justice-doing Themis, 

and shews how she is wronged mightily. 
She leaves no power unsought for or un prayed, 
That use to help distressed with their aid. 

Wronged Diego, little this suspecting, 

now thought it time, to see his dearest Fair ; 

And, other matters of import neglecting, 
he presently to her makes his repair : 

Where being come, such welcome he did find 

As, at the first, did much disturb his mind. 

For fair Gyneuka would not now be seen. 

she sent him word, she scorned his fawning flattery! 
And much did grieve that she so fond had been, 

to yield her heart to such deceitful battery. 
" Bid him," quoth she, " go flatter where he list ! 
I like not, I ! that favour on his fist ! " 

Such hap it was, Diego then had brought 
his hawk, the author of this fell debate : 

Which well confirmed her ever-doubtful thought, 
that now she was resolved on deadly hate. 

*' Bid him," quoth she, " depart hence from my sight ! 

His loathsome presence brings me irksome spite." 



2 20 The Love oe Dom Diego and 6^}w^6Vv'^/.[^'- ^^''"'I'^^ol 

'Twas hard ! that he, whose love was never tainted, 

whose sincere faith was kept inviolate ; 
Nay, in whose face, all truest love was painted : 

should, for his spotless truth, he paid with hate. 
He stone-astonied, like a deer at gaze. 
Admired these speeches in a wondrous maze. 



At last, he craved this favour he might have, 
that She herself would hear what he could say. 

" So Neptune's town," quoth She, " such license gave 
to smooth-faced Sinon ! (Ilion's lost decay) 

So Sirens sing, until they have their will ; 

Some poor mistrustless passenger to kill ! " 

She would not hear him speak, O cruel She, 

that causeless, thus would kill him with disdain ! 

He swears he's guiltless I vows innoccncy ! 

and in such vows, tears down his checks did rain ! 

Those cheeks, which stain the blushing of the Morn, 

Gyneuka, now, most hatefully doth scorn. 

'Tis strange, that Maids should e'er be so abused, 
to credit each malicious-tongued slave ; 

And to condemn a man, if once accused, 
before, or proof, or trial, he may have ! 

Too many such there be : woe's me therefore ! 

Such light credulil}-, I must deplore. 

When sighs, salt tears, and vows could do no good ; 

nor sighs, nor tears, nor vows could pierce her heart ! 
(In which Disdain, triumphant victor stood, 

holding in either hand a sable dart ; 
Wherewith he strikes True Love and Stainless Truth, 
CondemTiing them unto eternal ruth) 



R. L[inche?]-| YhE LoVE OF DoM DiEGO AXD GyXEURA. 22 1 

Home ^oes Diego, with a cheerless face ; 

whose steps were led by leaden-footed Grief 
(Who never goes but with a dead-slow pace, 

until he find some ease, or some relief). 
'Twould melt a marble heart to see that man, 
Erst fresh as a new-blown rose, so ashy wan. 

Where being come, he straight, for four days' space, 
locks him in his chamber ; and there did pour 

Huge showers of crystal rain adown his face 
(for, sure, he loved her dearly at this hour ! ). 

All overwhelmed in waves of sea-salt tears. 

Some fatal shipwreck of his life he fears. 

Wherewith, he calls for paper, pen, and ink : 
and for his hawk ; which presently he killed. 

** Die thou ! " quoth he, ** so shall my Love ne'er think 
that, for thy sake, to any else I yield ! " 

And plucking off her head, straightway he writes, 

Who, sending it as token, thus indites. 

** Lo, here, thou cruel Fair ! that gracious favour ! 

the ensign, as thou saidst, of my untruth ! 
Behold in what high-prized esteem, I have her 

that gave me it (the cause of all my ruth) ! 
Look, as this hawk, fair Love ! so is my heart ! 
Mangled and torn, 'cause Thou so cruel art ! " 

" I swear to thee, by all the rites of love ! 

by heaven's fair head ! by earth ! and black-faced hell ! 
I ne'er meant other love but thine to prove ! 

nor, in my heart, that any else should dwell ! 
Let this suffice, my Joy ! my Dear ! my Chief ! 
My griefs are too too long, though letter brief." 



222 The Love of Dom Diego axd Gyxeura^-^^;^, 

'Twas time to end ! for floods .c^aished out amain, 
out came the springtide of his brinish tears, 

Which whatsoe'er he wrote blot out again, 
All blubbered so to send it scarce he dares ; 

And yet he did. *' Go thou," quoth he unto her, 

*' And for thy Master, 'treat ! solicit ! woo her ! " 

" And pray thee, if thy fortune be so good 

as to be viewed by sunshine of her eyes. 
Bid her take heed in spilling guiltless blood ! 

tell her there's danger in such cruelties 1 " 
With this, he gave it to the messenger. 
Who, making speed, in short time, brought it her. 

She, when She heard from whom the letter came, 
returns it back again, and straight replied, 

" My friend ! " quoth She, " hadst thou not told his name, 
perhaps thy letter had not been denied." 

Whereat She paused, "but yet I'll see," quoth She, 

** With what persuading terms, he flatters me ! " 

'Twas quickly read (God knows it was but short !) 

Grief would not let the writer tedious be. 
Nor would it suffer him fit words to sort, 

but pen it, chaos like, confusedly: 
Yet had it Passion to have turned hard stones 
To liquid moisture ! if they heard his moans. 

But cruel She, more hard than any flint, 

worse than a tigress of Hyrcania, 
Would not be moved ! nor could his lines take print 

in her hard heart ! So cruel was Gvneuka! 
She which once loved him dearly (too too well !), 
Now hates him more than any tongue can t\:ll ! 



^'" ^''''^'"yl!] ^^^'^ Love of Dom Diego and Gyxeura. 223 

O Nature ! chiefest mother of us all ! 

why did you give such apt believing hearts 
To womenkind, that thus poor men enthrall, 

and will not duly weigh true love's deserts? 
O had their hearts been like unto their face ; 
They, sure, had been of some celestial race ! 

She, pitiless, sends back to Dom Diego, 

and says, " His words cannot enchant her heart ! 

Ulysses like, She will not hear Calypso, 
nor lend her ears to such enticing art ! 

Bid him," quoth She, " from henceforth, cease to write ! 

Tell him, his letters aggravate my spite ! " 

Full heavy news it was, to stainless love ! 

to him that had enshrined her in his thought ! 
And in his heart, had honoured her above 

the world ! To whom, all else save her seemed nought. 
Nay, unto him, whose person, wit, and fair 
Might surely with the best make just compare. 

But, blinded as She was, She 'steems him not. 
Hate and Disdain do never brook respect. 

She did not know that Beauty's foulest blot 
consisted in true-loving-heart's neglect. 

No, She, more stubborn than the North-east wind, 

Would not admit such knowledge in her mind. 



Let those who, guiltless, have felt Disdain ; 

whose faithful Love hath been repaid with Hate, 
Give rightful judgement of Diego's pain ! 

who bought his favours at the highest rate. 
This news such pleasure, in his soul had bred, 
As hath the thief that hears his judgement read. 



2 24 TiiE Love of Dom Diego a. yd GyxEiRA.\^'^'^''"'\lll 

After some time, he writes again unto her, 
he could not think She would persever so ; 

Ijut wiien he saw her answer, like the other, 
he then surceased to send her any mo j-je ; 

But did resolve to seek some uncouth place, 

Where he might, unfound out, hewail his case. 

Thinking, indeed. She, by his absence might 
at length intenerate her flintful heart, 

And metamorphose her conceived spite 
into true love, regardant of his smart. 

He seeks all means, poor lover ! how to gain 

His rigorous Lady from such fell disdain. 

At last, he calls to mind the Pyren mountains, 
those far-famed woody hills of wealthy Spain ; 

Which for wild beasts and silver-visaged fountains, 
hath got the praise of all that there remain. 

Hither posts Dom Diego, fraught with grief. 

Hoping those woods would yield him some relief. 

Where being come, all pilgrim-like attired, 
he pries abc^ut to see if he could find 

Some house-like cave ; for rest he much desired, 
his body now was weary as his mind. 

*' O gods ! " quoth he, " if Youth find such distress, 

What hope have I, of future happiness ? " 

With that, he sees a rock, made like a cabin, 
all tapestried with Nature's mossy green. 

Wrought in a friz/led guise, as it had been 
made for Nap>ea, mountains' chiefest Queen : 

At mouth of which, grew cedars, pines, and firs ; 

And at the top, grew maple, yew, and poplars. 



^^'"'^'j^y] 7///r Love of Dom Diego and Gyneura. 225 

*' So, here ! " quoth he, " I'll rest my wearied body ! 

In thee, delightful place of Nature's building, 
Will I erect a grief-framed monastery ; 

where, night and day, my prayers I'll ne'er cease yielding 
To thee, my Dear ! No other Saint I have. 
O lend thine ears to him, that his heart gave ! " 



Two daj's were spent in this so pleasant seat 
(this stone-built Palace of the King Content) 

Before Diego tasted any meat, 

or once did drink, more than his eyes had lent. 

O irresisted force of purest Love ! 

Whom pains, thirst, hunger can no whit remove. 

Sometimes when as he scans her Cruelty ; 

and feels his pains, like Hydra's head, increasing, 
He wished the Scythian Anthropophagi 

did haunt these woods ! that live by man's flesh eating. 
Or else the Thracian Bossi ! so renowned 
For cruel murdering whom, in woods they found. 

That so, the Gordian knot of his pain 

(indissoluble e'en whiles he did live) 
Might be untied ! when as his heart was slain, 

when he (O restful time !) should cease to grieve. 
But yet, the Sisters kept his vital breath : 
They would not let him die so base a death. 

Some other times, when as he weighs her Beauty, 
her VENUS-staining face, so wondrous fair; 

He then doth think, to wail 'tis but his duty ! 
sith caused by her, that is without compare. 

And, in this mood, unto high Jove he prays ; 

And praying so, he thus unto him says : 

ENG. GAK. VII. j:- 



226 The Love of Dom Diego axd Gyaeura.]^-^^''"''^^''-^ 



1596. 



*' Great Governor of wheel-resembling heaven ! 

command thy under-Princes to maintain 
Those heavenly parts, which to my Love they've given ! 

O let her ne'er feel death, or death's fell pain ! 
And, first, upon thy Sister, lay thy mace ; 
Bid her maintain my Love's majestic Grace ! " 

** Injoin the strange-born motherless Minerva, 
and her, to whom the foamy sea was mother, 

Still to uphold their gifts in my Gyneuka ! 
Let Wit and Beauty live united with her ! 

With sweet-mouthed Pytho, I may not suspense ; 

Great goddess ! still increase her Eloquence 1 " 

*' Thou, musical Apollo, gav'st her hand ! 

and thou, her feet, great sun-god's dearest Love ! 
To such your rare-known gifts all gracious stand. 

and now, at last, do I crave, great Jove ! 
That, when they die (perhaps, they die above !) ; 
Thou wilt bequeath these gifts unto my Love ! " 

On every neighbour tree, on every stone 

(he durst not far range from his secure cave) 

Would he cut out the Cause of all his moan ; 
and curiously, with greatest skill engrave. 

There needed no Leontius his Art ! 

Grief carveth deepest, if it come from th' heart. 

When some stone would not impression take, 
he straight compares it to his Mistress's heart. 

" But stay," quoth he, " my working tears shall make 
thee penetrable, with the least- skilled Art, 

O had my tears such force to pierce her mind ! 

Those sorrows I should lose, and new joys find." 



^' ^'"""isS '^^^^ Love of Dom Diego and Gyneura. 22^ 

*' Thou ever-memorable stone," quoth he, 

" tell those whom Fate or fortune here shall lead, 

How dearly I have loved the cruell'st She 
that ever Nature, or the world hath bred ! 

Tell them, her hate and her disdain were causeless ! 

O leave not out to tell, how I was guiltless ! " 



Whereat, the very stone would seem to weep, 

• whose wrinkled face would be besmeared with tears, 

" O man, whate'er thou be, thy sorrows keep 

unto thyself!" quoth he, " I'll hear no cares ! 
Tell them that care not, tell Gyneura of thee ! 
We stones are ruthful, and thy plaints have pierced me ! " 

With this, he seeks a russet-coated tree, 

and straight disclothes him [it] of his long-worn weed ; 
And whilst he thus disrobes him busily, 

he felt his half-dead heart afresh to bleed : 
Grieving that he should use such cruelty. 
To turn him naked to his foe, wind's fury. 

But now uncased, he 'gins to carve his cares, 

his Passions, his constant-living Love, 
When, lo, there gushes out clear sap-like tears, 

which, to get forth from prison, mainly strove. 
" Since Pity dwells," quoth he, " in trees and stone ; 
Them will I love ! Gyneura, thou hast none ! " 

" Yet needs I must confess, thou once didst love mc ! 

thy love was hotter than the Nimphocum hill ; 
But now, when time affords me means to prove thee, 

thy love, than Caucasus is more cold and chill ! 
And in thy cold, like Ethiopian hue. 
Thou art not to be changed from false to true! " 



2 28 The Love or Dom Diego and GyxEURA.\^-^'^''''''\''^^l 

" O look, fair Love ! as in the springin^q; plant, 
one branch entwines and grows within another, 

So grow my griefs ! w hich makes my heart to pant 

when thick-fetched sighs my vital breath doth smother. 

I, spoiled by Cruelty, am adjudged to death, 

Thus all alone to yield my living breath." 



** Thou hast the fairest face that e'er was seen ! 

but in thy breast (that alabaster rock !) 
Thou hast a fouler heart ! Disdain hath been 

accounted blacker than the chimney's stock. 

purify thy soul, my dearest Love ! 
Dislodge thy hate, and thy disdain remove ! " 

" But, all in vain, I speak unto the wind ! 

then should they carry these my plaints unto her ; 
Methinks, thou still shouldst bear a gentle mind, 

* dear-loving Zephyr ! pray, intreat, and woo her ! 
Tell her, 'twere pity I should die alone 
Here in these woods, where none can hear me moan.'" 

" But 'tis no matter, She is pitiless ! 

like the Sicilian stone, that more 'tis beat 
Doth wax the harder. Stones are not so ruthless 

which smallest drops do pierce, though ne'er so great. 
If seas of tears would wear into her heart ; 

1 had, ere this, been eased of my grief!" 

Thus, in these speeches, would Diego sit, 
bathing his silver cheeks with trickling tears ; 

Which, often running down, at last found fit 
channels to send them to their standing meres. 

Who, at his feet (before his feet there stood 

A pool of tears) received the smaller flood. 



■ ^^'"'^^Jg^'] 77/i£' Love of Dom Diego and Gyaeura. 229 

Ne'er had the world a truer loving heart ! 

Abydos cease to speak of constant love ! 
For, sure, thou, Signior Dom Diego ! art 

the only man that e'er Hate's force did prove ! 
Thy changeless love hath close enrolled thy name 
In steel-leaved Book of ever-living Fame. 



That wide-mouthed Time, which swallows good deserts, 
shall shut his jaws, and ne'er devour thy name ! 

Thou shalt be crowned with bays by loving hearts, 
and dwell in Temple of eternal Fame ! 

There, is a sacred place reserved for thee ! 

There, thou shalt live with perpetuity ! 

So long lived poor Diego in this case, 

that, at the length, he waxed somewhat bold 

To search the wood, where he might safely chase 
(necessity, thy force cannot be told !) 

The fearful hare, the coney, and the kid : 

Time made him know the places where they bid. 

This young-yeared hermit, one day among the rest, 

as he was busily providing meat, 
Which was, with Nature's cunning, almost dresst 

dried with the sun, now ready to be eat' : 
Enraged upon a sudden ; throws away 
His hard-got food, and thus began to say : 

*' cruel stars, stepmothers of my good ! 

and you, you ruthless Fates ! what mean you thus 
So greedily to thirst for my heart's blood ? 

why joy you so, in ununiting us ? 
Great Powers, infuse some pity in her heart, 
That thus hath, causeless, caused in me this smart !" 



230 The Love of Dom Diego and Gyneura.\^-^^''^''\iII 

" I ne'er was wont to use such cookery, 

to drudge and toil when peasants take their pleasure ; 
My noble birth scorns base-born slavery, 

this easeless life hath neither end nor measure. 
Thou great Sosipolis, look upon my state ! 
Be of these ne'er-heard griefs compassionate ! " 

" I feel my long-thought life begin to melt 
as doth the snow 'gainst midday heat of sun ! 

Fair Love 1 thy rigour I have too much felt ! 
O, at the last, with cruelty have done ! 

If tears, thy stony heart could mollify ; 

My brinish springs should flow eternally 1 " 

** Sweet Love, behold those pale cheeks washed in woe ! 

that so my tears may as a mirror be ; 
Thine own fair shadow lively for to show 

and portrait forth thy angel-hued beauty. 
NARCissus-like then, shouldst thou my face kiss. 
More honey sweet than Venus gave Adonis." 

** Fear not, Gyneura ! fair Narcissus' hap, 
thy neck, thy breast, thy hand is lily-white, 

They all are lilies ta'en from Flora's lap : 

ne'er be thou changed, unless to Love, from Spite ! 

O that thou wert but then transformed so. 

My summer's bliss would change my winter's woe." 

*' If thou didst know, in what a loathsome place, 

I spend my days, sad and disconsolate. 
What foggy Stygian mists hang o'er my face, 

thou wouldst exile this thy conceived hate. 
This hemisphere is dark ; for Sol him shrouds ! 
My sighs do so conglomerate the clouds." 



R.L[incheJjj2n^^^ LoVE' OF D OM D lEGO AND GyNEURA. 2^ 

** I told thee, I, thou Cruel too severe ! 

when Hate first 'gan to rise, how I was guiltless ! 
Thine ears were deaf, thou wouldst not hearken ere! 

thy heart was hardened, rocky, pitiless ! 
O had mine eyes been blind, when first they viewed thee! 
Would God I had been tongueless, when I sued thee 1 " 

"But thou wast then as ready to receive 

as I to crave. O great inconstancy ! 
O 'twas that fatal hour did so bereave 

my blissful soul of all tranquility ! 
Thou then didst burn in love, now freeze in hate, 
Yet, pity me ! sweet Mercy ne'er comes late ! " 

*' Look, as the crazen tops of armless trees, 
or latest downfall of some aged buildings, 

Do tell thee of the North wind's boisterous furies, 
and how that Eolus lately hath been stirring : 

So in my thin-cheeked face, thou well mayst see 

The furious storm of thy black cruelty ! " 

" But thou inexorable art, ne'er to be won ! 

though lions, bears, and tigers have been tamed ; 
Thy wood-born rigour never will be done 

which thinks for this, thou ever shalt be famed. 
True, so thou shalt ! but famed in infamy 
Is worse than living in obscurity." 

" If thou didst know, how grievous 'tis to me 

to live in this unhabited abode, 
Where none, but Sorrow, keeps me company : 

I know thou wouldst thy heart's hate then unload I 
O, I did ne'er deserve this misery ! 
For to deny the truth were hei-esy." 



232 The Love oi^ Dom Diego and Gyxeura^-^'^'^''^:';^, 

** I tell thee, Love ! when secret-tongued night 

puts on her misty sable-coloured veil, 
My wrangling Woes within themselves do fight ! 

they murder Hope ! which makes their Captain wail ; 
And wailing so, can never take his rest. 
That keeps such unruled soldiers in his breast." 



** So when the clear night's-faults-disclosing day 
peeps forth her purple head, from out the East ; 

These Woes, my soldiers, cry out for their pay : 
and if denied, they stab me with unrest ! 

My tears are pay ; but all my tears are dried, 

Therefore I must, their fatal blows abide." 

In these laments, did Dom Diego live 

long time ; till, at the last, by powerful Fate, 

A wandering huntsman, ignorance did drive 
unto the place whence he returned but late : 

Who viewing well the print of human steps, 

Directly followed them, and for joy leaps. 

At last, he came unto Diego's cave 

in which he saw a savage man, he thought, 

Who much did look like the Danubian slave, 

such deep-worn furrows in his face were wrought. 

Diego, much abashed at this sight, 

Came running forth, him in his arms to plight. 

For glad he was, God knows ! to see a man, 

who, wretch ! in two years' space, did ne'er see any. 

Such gladness, joy, such mirth, such triumph can 
not be set down : suppose them, to be many ! 

But see, long had they not conferred together; 

But, happy time ! each one did know the other. 



With that, Diego shows him all his love, 
his penance ; her first love, and now her hate. ' 

But he requested him hence to remove, 

and, at his house, the rest ne should dilate: 

Which he denied ; only he now doth write, 

By this his friend, unto his Heart's Delight : 

" Dear Love ! " quoth he, "when shall I home return ? 

when will the coals of hate be quenched with love ? 
Which now in raging flames my heart do burn. 

O, when wilt thou, this my disdain remove ? 
Ask of this bearer ! be inquisitive, 
And he will tell thee, in what case I live ! " 

" Inquire of her, whose hawk hath caused this woe, 

if for that favour, ever I did love her. 
And she will curse me, that did use her so ! 

and she will tell thee, how I loved another. 
'Twas thee, Gyneura ! 'twas thy fairest self ! 
I held thee, as a pearl ; her, drossy pelf! " 

" Then, when thou hast found out the naked truth ; 

think of thy Diego, and his hard hap ! 
Let it procure of thee some moving ruth, 

that thou hast, causeless, cast him from thy lap ! 
Farewell, my Dear ! I hope this shall suffice 
To add a period to thy cruelties." 

The messenger (to spur forth her desires, 
and hasten her unto his well-loved friend) 

Tells her, how he lies languishing in fires 
of burning griefs which never will have end ; 

Bids her to fly to him, with wings of zeal ! 

And thus Diego's pains, he doth reveal. 



234 1^^^^ Love of Dom Diego and Gyneura. p- ^''"""J^gel 

" O adamantic-minded Maid," quoth he, 

" why linger you in this ambiguous thought ? 

Open thine eyes, no longer blinded be ! 

those wounding looks, thy Lover dear hath bought ! 

Unbolt thy heart's strong gate of hardest steel ! 

O let him now the warmth of pity feel ! " 



" O let him now the warmth of pity feel, 

that long hath knocked cold-starven at thy door 1 

Wanting Love's food, he here and there doth reel 
like to a storm-tossed ship, that's far from shore. 

Feed him with love, that long hath fed on cares ! 

Be anchor to his soul, that swims in tears ! " 

" Gyneura ! let him harbour in thy heart ! 

rig and amend his trouble-beaten face ! 
O calm thy hate, whose winds have raised his smart ! 

see him not perish in this woful case ! 
And for in sea-salt tears, he long hath lived ; 
Let him, by thy fresh water be relieved ! " 

** shall I tell thee, how I found him there, 
his house wherein he live (if live he did. 

Or rather spend his time in dying fear) 

was built within the ground, all darksome hid 

From PiicEBUs' light, so ugly hell-like cave. 

In all the world again you cannot have 1" 

"All made of rugged hard-favoured stones, 

whose churlish looks afford the eye no pleasure : 

In whose concavity, winds breathed hoarse groans ; 
to which sad music, Sorrow danced a measure. 

O'ergrown it was, with mighty shadei'ul trees ; 

Where poor Diego, sun nor moon ne'er sees." 



R.L[i„chen]7V£ l^Qyj, ofDoM DiEGO AXD GvNEURA. 235 

" To this black place, repaired every morn 

the fair Oreades, pity-moved girls, 
Bringing to poor Diego so forlorn 

moss to dry up his tears, those liquid pearls. 
Full loth they were to lose such crystal springs, 
Therefore this sponge-like moss, each of them brings." 

" * Here, dry,' say they, ' thou love-forsaken man ! 

those glassy conduits, which do never cease. 
On the soft-feeling weed ! and, if you can, 

We all intreat, your griefs you would appease ! 
Else wilt thou make us pine in griefful woe. 
That ne'er knew care, or love, or friend, or foe ! ' " 

" Straight, like a shooting comet in the air, 
away depart these sorrow-pierced Maids ! 

Leaving Diego in a deep despair, 

who now, his fortune, now, his fate upbraids. 

* O heavens,' quoth he, * how happy are these trees, 

That know not love, nor feel his miseries.' " 

" Melts not thy heart, Gyneura ! at his cares ! 

are not thy bright transparent eyes yet blind 
With monstrous deluge of o'erflowing tears ? 

remains there yet disdains within thy mind ? 
Disgorge thy hate ! O hate him not, that loves thee ; 
Maids are more mild than men ; yet pity moves me ! 

" Break, break in pieces that delicious chest ! 

whiter than snow on Hyperboreal hill. 
Chase out Disdain, deprive him of his rest ; 

murder and mangle him, that rules thy will ! 
Be it ne'er said, that fair Gyneura's beauty, 
Was overpeised by causeless cruelty ! " 



236 The Love of Dom Diego and Gyneura. [^- ^''"".''/J! 

*' Cruel to him that merits courtesy ! 

loathed of thee, that doth deserve all love ! 
Basely rejected, scorned most churlishly, 

that honours thee above the saints above ! 
True Love is priceless, rare, and therefore dear. 
We feast not royal kings with homely cheer ! " 

" Too long it were, to tell thee all his merits ; 

for in delay consists his long-looked death. 
Post haste of thine must, now, revive his spirits ; 

or shortly he will gasp his latest breath ! 
Speak, fair Gyneuka ! speak, as I desire! 
Or let thy vain-breathed speeches back retire ! " 

Look, as a man late taken from a trance, 

stands gazing here and there, in senceless v/ise ; 

Not able of himself his head t'advance ; 

but standeth like a stone, in death-like guise : 

So looked Gyneuka, hanging down her head, 

Shaming that Folly, her so much had led. 

Repentant sorrow would not let her speak, 
the burning flames of grief did dry her tears; 

Yet, at the last, words out of prison brake, 
that longed to utter her heart's inward cares : 

And stealingly there glides with heavy pace 

A rivulet of pearl along her face. 

*' O cease," quoth She, " to wound me any more, 

with oft repeating of my cruelties ! 
Thou of thy tears, kind man ! hath shed great store ; 

when I, unkinder maid ! scarce wet mine eyes ! 
O let me now bewail him once for all ! 
'Tvvas none but I, that caused his causeless thrall ! " 



R. uinchc n-| 77/£ Love ol Dom Diego a.vd Gyneura. 237 

" Eternal Jove, rain showers of vengeance on me ! 

plague me, for this black deed of wrongful hate ! 
Be blind mine eyes ! the}'' shall not look upon thee, 

Diego ! till thou be compassionate ! 
And when thou dost forgive what I have done, 
Then shall they shine like shortest-shaded sun ! " 

*' O slack thy swift-paced gallop, winged Time ! 

turn back, and register this my Disdain ! 
Bid poets sing my hate in ruthful rhyme ! 

and pen sad Iliads of Diego's pain ! 
Let them be writ in plain-seen lines of glass, 
To shew how loving, he ; I, cruel was ! " 

Hereat she paused. " Tell me, sweet Sir ! " quoth She, 
" how I might see my dear-embosomed friend ? 

That now (if what is past may pardoned be) 
unto his griefs, I may impose an end ! " 

Wherewith, they both agreed that, the next day, 

They would enjourney them without more stay. 

Long were they not ! (" Desire still goes on ice 
and ne'er can stay till that he hath his wish." 

Men's willing minds each thing doth soon entice 
to haste to that, which they would fain accomplish.) 

But that they came, as having a good guide, 

Unto the place where they, Diego spied. 

Sacred Pympl/Eides endip my quill 

within the holy waters of your spring ! 
Infuse into my brain some of your skill ! 

that joyfully of these, I now may sing. 
These lovers now, 'twixt whom late dwelt annoy. 
Swimming in seas of overwhelming joy. 



238 The Love oe Dom Diego axd Gyxeura. \^-^''"''''\'yl 

But, pardon me, you Dames of Helicon ! 

for thus invoking your divinest aid, 
Which was by me (unworthy) called upon : 

at your rare knowledge, I am much dismayed. 
My barren-witted brains are all too base 
To be your sacred Learning's resting-place ! 



Thus of themselves, in pleasure's ecstasy, 

these lovers now embrace them in their arms. 

Speechless they are ! eye counterfixed on eye 1 
like two that are conjured by magic charms. 

So close their arms were twined, so near they came, 

As if both man and woman were one frame. 

In the end, as doth a current lately stayed, 
rush mainly forth his long-imprisoned flood, 

So brake out words ! and thus Diego said ; 

" What, my Gyneura ! O my heart's chief good ! 

Is't possible that thou thyself shouldst deign 

In seeing mc, to take so wondrous pain ? " 

** O, speak not of my pain, my dearest Love ! 

all pain is pleasure that I take for thee ; 
Thou that so loyal and so true dost prove, 

might'st scorn me now, so credulous to be ! 
Then, sweet Diego, let us now return, 
And banish all things that might make us mourn ! " 

'Twere infinite, to tell of their great gladness, 
■their amorous greetings, and their souls' delight ! 
Diego, now, had exiled grief and sadness, 
ravished with joy whilst he enjoyed her sight. 
Let it suffice, they homeward now retire : 
Which sudden chance, both men and maids admire. 



R. L[;nche^?)j jvy^ Love of Do^i Diego axd Gyxeura. 239 

Gyneura now delights but in his presence, 
she cannot once endure him from her sight ; 

His loveful face is now her soul's sole essence, 
and on his face, she doats both day and night. 

She ne'er did once disdain him half so much 

As now she honours him ; Love's force is such. 



Diego now wrapped in a world of pleasure, 

unparadised in having his desire ; 
Floating in seas of joy above all measure, 

sought means to mitigate Love's burning fire : 
Who warKmg with his Love alone, one day, 
Discharged his mind, and thus began to say : 

" O fair Gyneura ! how long will 't be 
ere saffron-robed Hymen do unite us ? 

My soul doth long that happy hour to see, 
O let the angry Fates no longer spite us ! 

Lingering delays will tear my grieved heart ! 

Let me no longer feel so painful smart ! " 

Gyneura which desired it as her life, 

tells him that pain shall shortly have a cure. 

" Shortly," quoth She, " I'll be thy married wife, 
tied in those chains which ever will endure ! 

Be patient then, and thou shalt plainly see, 

In working it, how forward I will be ! " 

And so She was. No time did she mispend, 
wherein she gets not things in readiness. 

That might to Hymen's rites full fitly tend, 
or once conduce to such their happiness. 

All things prepared : these Lovers now are chained 

In marriage bands ; in which they long remained. 



240 The Love of Dom Diego and Gyneura. [^^- ^''"'^l'^ 

These, whilst they lived, did live in all content, 
contending who should love each other most ; 

To which Pure Love, proud Fame, her ears down lent ! 
and through the world, of it doth highly boast. 

O happy he ! to whom Love comes at last, 

That will restore what Hate before did waste. 



f Then, dearest hove ! Gynetirize at the last ! 
{And I shall soon forget whatever is past. 




Nd now, Farewell ! when I shall fare hut ill ! 

flourish and joy, when I shall droop and languish / 
i All plenteous good await npon thy will ! 
when extreme want shall bring my soul, death's anguish ! 
Forced by thee, thou mercy-wanting Maid ! 

must I abandon this my native soil ; 
Hoping my sorrow's heat shall be allayed 

by Absence, Time, Necessity, or Toil. 
So now, adieu ! the winds call my depart / 
Thy Beauty's excellence, my rudest quill 
Shall never more unto the world impart ! 

so that it know they Hate ! I have my will. 
And when thou hear'st that I, for thee shall perish; 
Be sorrowful ! and henceforth, True Love cherish ! 

FINIS. 

Poco scnno basta a chi Fortuna suona. 



241 



[The Sixth and Seventh volumes of this Series are designed, among other 
thini^s, to sive a large and just insight into the Life and Literature of the 
Age of Queen Anne. Thus in the Sixth volume, will be found, Swift's 
Controversy with J. PARTRIDGE, the Astrologer at pp. 469-502 ; Gay's 
Present State of Wit, at p. 503 ; TiCKELL's Life of Joseph Addison, 
a.i p. 513; the fullest, and indeed the only account Steele ever gave 
of Addison's share in the Literary serial Half-Sheets of which he was 
the Editor, at p. 523 ; and Arbuthnot's Law is a Bottomless Pit, 
at A 537. 

So here, are subjoined a series of friendly testimonies, stretching over 
half a century, from 1669 to 1713, as to the heart-rending indignities offered 
to the Clergy (whether in the capacity of the parson of the parish, or that 
of a domestic chaplain) by those who listened to their ministrations or 
kept them in their houses ; and who were, besides, politically bound up with 
them, as a class, in the nation. 

Finally, at the end of this volume, will be found a number of pieces by 
Daniel Defoe, giving much information relating to the Dissenting side 
of the Life and Thought of that reign. 

Every one of these pieces is thoroughly significant ; and so far as it 
goes, can be relied upon as giving a true impression of the Time. 

The History of the Age of Queen Anne has yet to be written. No 
period of England's Story is so complicated ; or more full of incident, of 
cross currents, of abortive attempts, and of double-double dealing. 

But standing out amidst it all, is the Political Power of the Clergy, and 
of their great cry " The Church is in danger ! " It requires a lively exer- 
cise of the imagination to realize, that the Clergy, thus politically dominant, 
could possibly be looked upon, for the most part, as the Helots of Society ; 
that even so early as 1669, they were 

Accounted by many, the Dross and Refuse of the nation. 
Men think it a stain to their blood to place their sons in that 
function ; and women are ashamed to marry with any of 
them. . . . Also that, of all the Christian Clergy of Europe, 
whether Romish, Lutheran, or Calvinistic, none are so little 
respected, beloved, obeyed, or rewarded, as the present pious, 
learned, loyal Clergy of England ; even by those who have 
always professed themselves of that Communion, [p. 244. | 

On the other hand, the hunted and persecuted Nonconformist Ministers 
were held in the highest veneration by those who symijathi/.ed with them. 
Matters had come, indeed, to a very different state of things, since 
George Herhert's Country ParsoJi had appeared in 163 1. 

Besides this general object, these pieces give a kind of background to 
the life of Jonathan Swift. He, with his eyes wide open, entered a 
ENG. Gar. VII. 16 



242 

Profession thus loaded with indip:nities. Surely, much of his character 
and habits may be looked upon as a Sturdy Revolt against social sur- 
rounding's that were as irreligious as they were degrading^ 

We know he must have read Dr. Eachard's book and the Controversy 
to which it gave rise, early in life, from the followini^ remarks in his 
Apoloi!:)' prefaced to the P'ourth Edition of the Talc of a Tub, 17 10 : and one 
cannot but see that the Enquiry into Tlic Grounds atid Occasions of the 
Contciuptof the Clcrc;y, &^c., must have largely affected both his character 
and style. P'or he read it inversely. He was just the opposite, in every 
way, of what Dr. Eacharu says the bulk of the Clergy, in his time, 
were. 

Swift's remarks are : 

The Apology being chiefly intended for the satisfaction of 
futufe readers, it may be thought unnecessary to take any 
notice of such treatises as have been writ [ten] against this 
ensuing Discourse ; which are already sunk into waste 
paper and oblivion : after the usualfate ot common Answerers 
to books which are allowed to have any merit. They are 
indeed like annuals that grow about a young tree, and seem 
to vie with it for a summer; but fall and die with the leaves 
in autumn, and are never heard of any more. 

When Dr. Eachard writ his book about the Contempt of the 
Clergy, numbers of those Answerers immediately started up : 
whose memory, if he had not kept alive by his Replies, it 
would now L1710J be utterly unknown that he were ever 
answered at all. 

It may be necessary to observe, that from the subsequent Controversy it 
would appear, that at least some of the specimens of sermons adduced 
by Dr. Eacharu, are not precise quotations : but are witty aggravations 
and exaggerations of things said in a much more dull and common 
way. 

This sequence of pieces on the Social Contempt of the Clergy is as 

follows : — 

1669 E. Chamberlavne. Extr:\ct from A nj^^ii'cc N^ot/i/a .^-243 

1670 T. B. [AVt/. y. Eachard, D.D.'\ The Grounds and Occasions 

of the Contempt of the Clev}^ and Religion enquired into... p. 245 
1710 I. BicKERSTAFF [/?. 57'£'£X£]. A Paper from the Tatler with 

some lines by J. Oldham /. 317 

1713 N, Ironside [/?. 6" /-£•£/,£]. A Paper from the (7«(j;v//(J« p. 322] 




243 



Edward Chamberlayne. 

The social position of the English Estab- 
lished Clergy J in 1669, a. d. 

\_Anglia: Notitia, or the Present State of England, ist Ed. 1669.] 

T PRESENT, the revenues of the Enghsh Clergy are 
generally very small and insufficient : above a 
third of the best benefices of England, havi ig 
been anciently, by the Pope's grant, appropriated to 
monasteries, were on their dissolution, made Lay 
fees ; besides what hath been taken by secret ana indirect 
means, through corrupt compositions and compacts and 
customs in many other parishes. And also many estates 
being wholly exempt from paying tithes, as the lands that 
belonged to the Cistercian Monks, and to the Knights 
Templars and Hospitallers. 

And those benefices that are free from these things are 
yet (besides First Fruits and Tenths to the King, and Pro- 
curations to the Bishop) taxed towards the charges of their 
respective parishes, and towards the public charges of the 
nation, above and beyond the proportion of the Laity. 

The Bishoprics of England have been also since the latter 
of Henry VHI.'s reign, to the coming in of King James, 
most miserably robbed and spoiled of the greatest part of 
their lands and revenues. So that, at this day (1669I, a 
mean gentleman of ^^200 from land yearly, will not 
change his worldly estate and condition with divers Bishops : 
and an Attorney, a shopkeeper, a common artisan will hardly 
change theirs, with the ordinary Pastors of the Church. 

Some few Bishoprics do yet retain a competency. Amongst 
which, the Bishopric of Durham is accounted one of the 
chief : the yearly revenues whereof, before the late troubles 
[i.e., the Civil Wars] were above ^^6,000 [=:;^25,ooo now] : of 
which by the late Act for abolishing Tenures in capite |i66oJ, 
was lost about /^2,ooo yearly. 



244 Clergy thought the Refuse of Nation. [^^•'""''^''Hgy; 

Out of this revenue, a }early pension of ;£'Soo is paid to 
the Crown, ever since the reign of Queen Elizabeth ; who 
promised, in lieu thereof, so much in Impropriations : which 
was never performed. 

Above ;^340 yearly is paid to several officers of the County 
Palatine of Durham. 

The Assizes and Sessions, also, are duly kept in the 
Bishop's House, at the sole charges of the Bishop. 

Also the several expenses for keeping in repair certain 
banks of rivers in that Bishopric, and of several Houses 
belonging to the Bishopric. 

Moreover, the yearly Tenths, public taxes, the charges of 
going to and waiting at Parliament, being deducted ; there 
will remain, in ordinary years, to the Bishop to keep hospi- 
tality, which must be great, and to provide for those of his 
family, but about £"1,500 [=^4,500 now] yearly. 

The like might be said of some other principal Bishoprics. 

The great diminution of the revenues of the Clergy, and the 
little care of augmenting and defending the patrimony of the 
Church, is the great reproach and shame of the English 
Reformation; and will, one day, prove the ruin of Church 
and State. 

" It is the last trick," saith St. Gregory, " that the Devil 
hath in this world. When he cannot bring the Word and 
Sacraments into disgrace b}- errors and heresies; he invents 
thisprojcct,to bring the Clergy into contempt and low esteem." 

As it is now in England, where they are accounted by 
many, the Dross and Refuse of the nation. Men think it 
a stain to their blood to place their sons in that function ; 
and women are ashamed to marry with any of them. /A 3^3-389- 

It hath been observed, even by strangers, that the iniquity 
of the present Times in England is such, that the English 
Clergy are not only hated by the Romanists on the one side, 
and maligned by the Presbyterians on the other . . . ; but 
also that, of all the Christian Clergy of Europe, whether 
Romish, Lutheran, or Calvinistic, none are so little respected, 
l)eli)vcd, obeyed, or rcivardcd, as the present pious, learned, 
loyal Clergy of England ; even by tiiose who have always 
professed themselves of that Communion. ;>. 401. 



THE 

Grounds & Occasions 

OF THE 

CONTEMPT 

OF THE 

CLERGY 

AND 

RELIGION 

Enquired into. 
In a Letter ^written to R. L. 




LONDON, 

Printed by W. God bid for N. Brooke at the 
Angel in Cornhill. 1670. 



246 



This work is dated August 8, 1670. Anthonv A WoOD in his Life 
(Alh. Oxon. I. Ixx. Ed. 18 13), gives the following account of our AutLor. 

February 9 1^1672] A. W. went to London, and the next 
day he was kindly receiv'd by Sir Liolin Jenkyns, in his 
apartment in Exeter house in the Strand, within the city of 
Westminster. 

Sunday 11 [Feb. 1672^ Sir Liolin Jenkyns took with 
him, in the morning, over the water to Lambeth, A. Wood, 
and after prayers, he conducted him up to the dining rome, 
where archb, Sheldon received him, and gave him his 
blessing. There then dined among the company, John 
EcHARD, the author of The Contempt of the Clergy, who sate 
at the lower end of the table between the archbishop's two 
chaplayns Samuel Parker and Thomas Thomkins, being 
the first time that the said Echard was introduced into the 
said archbishop's company. After dinner, the archbishop 
went into his withdrawing roome, and Echard with the 
chaplaynes and Ralph Snow to their lodgings to drink and 
snioak. 

John Eachakd, S.T.P., was appointed Master of Catherine Hall, 
Cambridge, in 1675.] 



247 




The P re face to the Reader. 



•xm K.\ 



Can very easily fancy that many, upon the very first 
sight of the title, ■will presently imagine that tJie 
Author does either want the Great Tithes, lying 
under the pressure of some pitifid vicarage ; or that he 
is much out of humour, and dissatisfied with the present condition 
of affairs; or, lastly, that he writes to no purpose at all, there 
having been an abundance of unprofitable advisers in this kind. 

As to my being under some low Church dispensation ; you may 
know, I write not out of a pinching necessity, or out of any rising 
design. You may please to believe that, although I have a most 
solemn reverence for the Clergy in general, and especially for that 
of England ; yet, for my own part, I must confess to yon, I am 
not of that holy employment; and have as little thought of being 
Dean or Bishop, as they that think so, have hopes of being all Lord 
Keepers. 

Nor less mistaken will they be, that shall judge me in the least 
discontented, or any ways disposed to disturb the peace of iJic 
present settled Church: for, in good truth, I have neither lost 
King's, nor Bishop's lands, that should incline me to a surly and 
quarrelsome complaining; as many be, who would have been 
glad enough to see His Majesty restored, and would have endured 
Bishops daintily well, had they lost no money by their coming in. 

I am not, I will assure you, any of those Occasional Writers, 
that, missing preferment in the University, can presently write you 
their new ways of Education ; or being a little tormented with 



2 43 Preface to the R e a d e r. [^- ^' ^J- '^g'Sst'^K^^ 

an ill-chosen wifcy set forth the doctrine of Divorce to be truly 
evanp^elical. 

The cause of these few sheets was honest and innocent, and as 
free from all passion as any design. 

As for the last thing which I supposed objected, viz., that this 
book is altogether needless, there having been an infinite number 
of Church- and Clergy -menders, that have made many tedious and 
tmsuccessful offers : I must needs confess, that it were very tin- 
reasonable for me to expect a better reward. 

Only thus much, I think, with modesty may be said : that I 
cannot at present call to mind anything that is propounded but 
what is very hopeful, and easily accomplished. For, indeed, should 
I go about to tell you, that a child can never prove a profitable 
Instructor of the people, unless born ivhen the sun is in Aries; or 
brought up in a school that stands full South : that he can never 
be able to govern a parish, imless he can ride the great horse ; or 
that he can never go through the great work of the Ministry, unless 
for three himdred years backward it can be proved that none of 
his family ever had cough, ague, or grey hair : then I should very 
patiently endure to be reckoned among the vainest that ever made 
attempt. 

But believe me, Reader I I am not, as you will easily see, any 
contriver of an incorruptible and pure crystaline Churchy or any 
expecter of a reign of nothing but Saints and Worthies : but only 
an honest and hearty Wisher that the best of our Clergy might, 
for ever J continue as they arc, rich and learned ! and that the rest 
might be very usefid and well esteemed in their Profession ! 




2 49 



THE 

Grounds and Occasions 

O F T H E 

CONTEMPT 

OF TH E 

CLERGY AND RELIGION 



Sir, 



Enquired into. 




Hat short discourse which we lately had 
concerning the Clergy, continues so fresh 
in your mind, that, I perceive by your last, 
you are more than a little troubled to 
observe that Disesteem that lies upon 
several of those holy men. Your good 
wishes for the Church, I know, are very 
strong and unfeigned ; and your hopes of 
the World receiving much more advantage and better advice 
from some of the Clergy, than usually it is found by experience 
to do, are neither needless nor impossible. 

And as I have always been a devout admirer as well as 
strict observer of your actions ; so I have constantly taken a 
great delight to concur with you in your very thoughts. 
Whereupon it is, Sir, that I have spent some few hours upon 
that which was the occasion of your last letter, and the 
subject of our late discourse. 

And before, Sir, I enter upon telling you what are my 
apprehensions ; I must most heartily profess that, for my 
own part, I did never think, since at all I understood the 
excellency and perfection of a Church, but that Ours, now 
lately Restored, as formerly Established, does far outgo, as to 



250 Bad Schooling of the Clergy. [L^'^Jc;! 

all Christian ends and purposes, either the pomp and bravery 
of Rome herself, or the best of Free Spiritual States 
\Nnnconfor}nis,ts . 

But if so be, it be allowable (where we have so undoubtedly 
learned and honourable a Clergy) to suppose that some of 
that sacred profession might possibly have attained to a 
greater degree of esteem and usefulness to the World : then 
I hope what has thus long hindered so great and desirable a 
blessing to the nation, may be modestly guessed at ! either 
without giving any wilful offence to the present Church ; or 
any great trouble, dear Sir, to yourself. And, if I be not 
very much mistaken, whatever has heretofore, or does at 
present, lessen the value of our Clergy, or render it in any 
degree less serviceable to the World than might be reasonably 
hoped ; may be easily referred to two very plain things — the 
Ignorance of some, and the Poverty of others of the 
Clergy. 



Nd first, as to the IGNORANCE of some of our Clc'i',^y 

If we would make a search to purpose, we must 
go as deep as the very Beginnings of Education ; and, 
doubtless, may lay a great part of our misfortunes 
to the old-fashioned methods and discipline of Schooling 
itself: upon the well ordering of which, although much of 
the improvement of our Clergy cannot be denied mainly 
to depend: yet by reason this is so well known to yourself, 
as also that there have been many of undoubted learning and 
experience, that have set out their several models for this 
purpose ; I shall therefore only mention such Loss of Time 
and Abuse of Youth as is most remarkable and mischievous, 
and as could not be conveniently omitted in a Discourse of 
this nature, though ever so short. 

And first of all, it were certainly worth the considering. 
Whether it be unavoidably necessary to keep lads to 16 or 17 
years of age, in pure slavery to a few Latin or Greek words ? 
or Whether it may not be more convenient, especially if we 
call to mind their natural inclinations to ease and idleness, 
and how hardly they arc persuaded of the excellency of the 
liberal Arts and Sciences (any further than the smart of the 




J-^^-^^';-^'^y English Literature wanted in Schools. 251 

last piece of discipline is fresh in their memories), Whether, 
I say, it be not more proper and beneficial to mix with those 
unpleasant tasks and drudj^eries, somethin,£j that, in pro- 
bability, mi^ht not only take much better with them, but 
mif^ht also be much easier obtained ? 

As, suppose some part of time was allotted them, for the 
reading of some innocent English Authors ! where they need 
not go, every line, so unwillingly to a tormenting Dictionary, 
and whereby they might come in a short time, to apprehend 
common sense, and to begin to judge what is true. For you 
shall have lads that are arch knaves at the Nominative Case, 
and that have a notable quick eye at spying out of the Verb ; 
who, for want of reading such common and familiar books, 
shall understand no more of what is very plain and easy, than 
a well educated dog or horse. 

Or suppose they were taught, as they might much easier 
be than what is commonly offered to them, the principles of 
Arithmetic, Geometry, and such alluring parts of Learning. 
As these things undoubtedly would be much more useful, so 
much more delightful to them, than to be tormented with a 
tedious story how Phaeton broke his neck, or how many 
nuts and apples Tityrus had for his supper. 

For, most certainly, youths, if handsomely dealt with, are 
much inclinable to emulation, and to a very useful esteem of 
glory ; and more especially, if it be the reward of knowledge : 
and therefore, if such things were carefully and discreetly 
propounded to them, wherein they might not only earnestly 
contend amongst themselves, but might also see how far 
they outskill the rest of the World, a lad hereby would think 
himself high and mighty ; and would certainly take great 
delight in contemning the next unlearned mortal he meets 
withal. 

But if, instead hereof, you diet him with nothing but with 
Rules and Exceptions, with tiresome repetitions of Aiiw and 
TvTTT(o, setting a day also apart also to recite verbatim all the 
burdensome task of the foregoing week (which I am confident 
is usually as dreadful as an old Parliament Fast) we must 
needs believe that such a one, thus managed, will scarce 
think to prove immortal, by such performances and accom- 
plishments as these. 

You know very well, Sir, that lads in general have but a 



252 Lads TO i!E WON to the love of Learning. [^^SS 

kind of iifi^ly and odd conception of Learnin|2^ ; and look upon 
it as such a starving tiling, and unnecessary perfection, 
especially as it is usually dispensed out unto them, that 
Nine-pins or Span-counter are judged much more heavenly 
employments ! And therefore what pleasure, do we think, can 
such a one take in being bound to get against breakfast, two 
or three hundred Rumblers out of Homer, in commendation 
of AcHiLLEs's toes, or the Grecians' boots ; or to have 
measured out to him, very early in the morning, fifteen or 
twenty well laid on lashes, for letting a syllable slip too soon, 
or hanging too long on it ? Doubtless instant execution upon 
such grand miscarriages as these, will eternally engage him 
to a most admirable opinion of the Muses ! 

Lads, certainly, ought to be won by all possible arts and 
devices : and though many have invented fine pictures and 
games, to cheat them into the undertaking of unreasonable 
burdens; yet this, by no means, is such a lasting temptation 
as the propounding of that which in itself is pleasant and 
alluring. For we shall find very many, though of no excelling 
quickness, will soon perceive the design of the landscape ; 
and so, looking through the veil, will then begin to take as 
little delight in those pretty contrivances, as in getting by 
heart three or four leaves of ungayed nonsense. 

Neither seems the stratagem of Money to be so prevailing 
and catching, as a right down offer of such books which are 
ingenious and convenient : there being but very few so in- 
tolerably careful of their bellies, as to look upon the hopes of 
a cake or a few apples, to be a sufficient recompense, for 
cracking their pates with a heap of independent words. 

I am not sensible that I have said anything in disparage- 
ment of those two famous tongues, the Greek and Latin ; 
there being much reason to value them beyond others, be- 
cause the best of Human Learning has been delivered unto us 
in those languages. But he that worships them, purely out 
of honour to Rome and Athens, having little or no respect to 
the usefulness and excellency of the books themselves, as 
many do : it is a sign he has a great esteem and reverence of 
antiquity ; but I think him, by no means comparable, for 
happiness, to him who catches frogs or hunts butterfiies. 

That some languages therefore ought to be studied is in a 
manner absolutely necessar}*: unless all were brought to one; 



J. Eachard.-! T^HE MECHANICAL WAY OF TEACIITXG LaTIN. 253 

8 Aug. 1670. J 

which would be the happiest thing that the World could wish 

^^But whether the beginning of them might not be more 
insensibly instilled, and more advantageously obtamed by 
readinl phi osophical as well as other ingenious Authors, than 
"j^XsuarZ, crabbed poems, and --s-gj-amed pros^ a 
it has been heretofore by others: so it ought to be atiesn 
consideSby all well-wishers,eithertotheCergy or Learning 

"^know where it is the fashion of --%— ^^^/^P^^^^^^^.'i 
to a lad for his evening refreshment, out of Commenius, all 
the Terms of Art [technical tcr,ns] belonging to Anatomy, 
Mathematics, or some such piece of Learnin.g^ Now, s t 
not q verv likely thing, that a lad should take most aosoiuie 
SeliA.tln^onquering^;uch a pleasant task; where, perhaps, 
he has wo or three hundred words to keep in mind, with a 
very smaUproportion of sense thereunto belonging : whereas 
uTeVsTand^ full meaning of all those difficult terms would 
have been most insensibly obtained, by leisurely reading 
in narticular, this or the other science .-' r , ui« 

fs not a so likely to be very savoury and of comfortable 
use to one that can scarce distinguish between Vn.ue and 
Vice, to be tasked with high and moral P°^"^,\; . J^ ^\^-^^^^^^^^^^ 
said by those that are intimately acquainted with h^ni tha 

Homer's Iliad and Odyssey contain ^yf f ,^:' f .f ^^^.^^^^e 
Law for certain, if not a great part of the Gospel (I suppose 
mnrh after that rate that Rabelais said his Gmgantua con 
TarneVaU the Ten Commandments!); but perc.va e on 3. to 
those that have a poetical discerning spii t : with which ^ilt, 
T mmnose few at school are so early qualitied. 
' Tl^Sse admirable verses, Sir, of yours, both Enf sh and 
others which you have sometimes favoured me with a si nt 
o 'wi i not suffer me to be so sottish as to sligh and und 
value so ereat and noble an accomplishment, but the 
committ^nfof such high and brave sensed poems to a school- 
boy "vhose main businesses to --ch -t 0^-^ Y ^1- 
Antecedent and the Relative; to he a ^^^^^^. ^^^^^^/f/^'^^ 
Phrase, a Proverb, or a quaint and pithy Sentence is not 
only to very little purpose, but that ^avn^g garg cd only t lose 
elegant books at school, this serves tbem instead ead n,^ 
them afterwards ; and does, in a manner, P^^^"^.^^^^^^^^^ 
further looked into. So that all improvement, whatsoever it 



254UNWISE CHOICE OF LADS TO THE UNIVERSITIES.[|-A^g*;';^'.^: 

be, that may be reaped out of the best and ehoicest poets, is 
for the most part utterl}' lost, in that a time is usually chosen 
of readinp^ them, when discretion is much wanting to gain 
thence any true advantage. Thus that admirable and highly 
useful morality, Tully's Offices, because it is a book com- 
monly construed at school, is generally afterwards so con- 
temned by Academics, that it is a long hour's work to convince 
them that it is worthy of being looked into again; because they 
reckon it as a book read over at school, and, no question ! 
notably digested. 

If, therefore the ill methods of schooling do not only 
occasion a great loss of time there, but also do beget in lads 
a very odd opinion and apprehension of Learning, and much 
disposes them to be idle when they are got a little free from 
the usual severities; and that the hopes of more or less im- 
provement in the Universities very much depend hereupon : 
it is, without all doubt, the great concernment of all that wish 
to the Church, that such care and regard be had to the 
management of schools, that the Clergy be not so much 
obstructed in their first attempts and preparations to Learning. 

I cannot. Sir, possibly be so ignorant as not to consider 
that what has been now offered upon this argument, has not 
only been largely insisted on by others ; but also refers not 
particularly to the Clergy (whose welfare and esteem, I 
seem at present in a special manner solicitous about), but 
in general to all learned professions, and therefore might 
reasonably have been omitted : which certainly I had done, 
had not I called to mind that of those many that propound 
to themselves Learning for a profession, there is scarce one 
in ten but that his lot, choice, or necessity determines him 
to the study of Divinity. 

Thus, Sir, I have given you my thoughts concerning the 
orders and customs of common schools. A consideration, in 
my apprehension, not slightly to be weighed : being that 
upon which to me seems very much to depend the learning 
and wisdom of the Clergy, and the prosperity of the Church. 



The next unhappiness that seems to have hindered some 
of our Clergy from arriving to that degree of understanding 
that becomes such a holy office, whereby their company and 



s-VuS?"'.'] 'T^^^^ AMBITION OF TARISII SCHOOLMASTERS. 255 

discourses might be much more, than they commonly are, 
valued and desired, is the inconsiderate sending of all kinds 
of lads to the Universities; let their parts be ever so low 
and pitiful, the instructions they have lain under ever so 
mean and contemptible, and the purses of their friends ever 
so short to maintain them there. If they have but the 
commendation of some lamentable and pitiful Construing 
Master, it passes for sufficient evidence that they will prove 
persons very eminent in the Church. That is to say, if a 
lad has but a lusty and well bearing memory, this being the 
usual and almost only thing whereby they judge of their 
abilities ; if he can sing over very tunably three or four 
stanzas of Lilly's Poetry ; be very quick and ready to tell 
what is Latin for all the instruments belonging to his father's 
shop; if presently [at sight], upon the first scanning, he 
knows a Spondee from a Dactyl, and can fit a few of those 
same, without any sense, to his fingers' ends ; if, lastly, he can 
say perfectly by heart his Academic Catechism, in pure and 
passing Latin, i.e., " What is his Name?" " Where went he 
to School ?" and "What author is he best and chiefly skilled 
in?" " A forward boy !" cries the Schoolmaster: "a very 
pregnant child ! Ten thousand pities, but he should be a 
Scholar ; he proves a brave Clergyman, I'll warrant you ! " 

Away to the University he must needs go ! Then for a 
little Logic, a little Ethics, and, GOD knows! a very little of 
everything else ! And the next time you meet him, he is in 
the pulpit ! 

Neither ought the mischief which arises from small country 
schools to pass unconsidered. The little mighty Governors 
whereof, having, for the most part, not sucked in above 
six or seven mouthsful of University air, must yet, by all 
means, suppose themselves so notably furnished with all 
sorts of instructions, and are so ambitious of the glory of 
being counted able to send forth, now and then, to Oxford or 
Camliridge, from the little house by the Churchyard's side, 
one of their ill-educated disciples, that to such as these oft- 
times is committed the guidance and instruction of a whole 
parish : whose parts and improvements duly considered, 
will scarce render them fit Governors of a small Grammar 
Castle. 

Not that it is necessary tc believe, that there never was 



256 Dismal Things are sent up to College. [I A^ug';^iC7o. 

a learned or useful person in the Church, but such whose 
education had been at Westminster or St. Paul's. But, 
whereas most of the small schools, being by their first 
founders designed only for the advantage of poor parish 
children, and also that the stipend is usually so small and 
discouraging that very few who can do much more than teach 
to write and read, will accept of such preferment : for these 
to pretend to rig out their small ones for a University life, 
proves ofttimes a very great inconvenience and damage to 
the Church. 

And as many such Dismal Things are sent forth thus, 
with very small tackling ; so not a few are predestinated 
thither by their friends, from the foresight of a good benefice. 
If there be rich pasture, profitable customs, and that Henry 
VIII. has taken out no toll, the Holy Land is a very good 
land, and affords abundance of milk and honey ! Far be it 
from their consciences, the considering whether the lad is 
likely to be serviceable to the Church, or to make wiser and 
better any of his parishioners ! 

All this may seem, at first sight, to be easily avoided by a 
strict examination at the Universities ; and so returning by 
the next carrier, all that was sent up not fit for their purpose. 
But because many of their relations are ofttimes persons of 
an inferior condition ; and who (either by imprudent coun- 
sellors, or else out of a tickling conceit of their sons being, 
forsooth, a University Scholar) have purposely omitted all 
other opportunities of a livelihood ; to return such, would 
seem a very sharp and severe disappointment. 

Possibly, it might be much better, if parents themselves or 
their friends, would be much more wary of determining their 
children to the trade of Learning. And if some of undoubted 
knowledge and judgement, would offer their advice ; and speak 
their hopes of a lad, about 13 or 14 years of age (which, I will 
assure you, Sir, may be done without conjuring !) ; and never 
omit to inquire. Whether his relations are able and willing 
to maintain him seven years at the University, or see some 
certain way of being continued there so long, by the help of 
friends or others, as also upon no such conditions as shall, 
in likelihood, deprive him of the greatest parts of his studies ? 

For it is a common fashion of a great many to compliment 
and invite inferior people's children to the University, and 



J-^Eacw.-] Usually seven years at the Universities. 257 

there pretend to make such an all bountiful provision for 
them, as they shall not fail of comings: to a very eminent 
degree of Learning; but when they come there, they shall save 
a servant's wages. They took therefore, heretofore, a very good 
method to prevent Sizars overheating their brains. Bed- 
making, chamber-sweeping, and water-fetching were doubt- 
less great preservatives against too much vain philosophy. 
Now certainly such pretended favours and kindnesses as 
these, are the most right down discourtesies in the World. 
For it is ten times more happy, both for the lad and the 
Church, to be a corn-cutter or tooth-drawer, to make or mend 
shoes, or to be of any inferior profession ; than to be invited 
to, and promised the conveniences of, a learned education ; and 
to'have his name only stand airing upon the College Tables 
[Notice-boards], and his chief business shall be, to buy eggs 
and butter. 

Neither ought lads' parts, before they be determined to the 
University, be only considered, and the likelihood of being 
disappointed in their studies ; but also abilities or hopes of 
being maintained until they be Masters of Arts. For whereas 
200, for the most part, yearly Commence [Matriculate,, scarce 
the fifth part of these continue after their taking the First 
Degree [B.A.]. As for the rest, having exactly learned, Quid 
est Logica ? and Qiiot sunt Virtutcs Morales ? down they go, 
by the^ first carrier, on the top of the pack, into the West, or 
North, or elsewhere, according as their estates lie; with 
BuRGESDicius, EusTACHius, and such great helps of Divinity ; 
and then, for propagation of the Gospel ! By that time they 
can say the Predicaments and Creed; they have their choice 
of preaching or starving! Now what a Champion of Truth 
is such a thing likely to be ! What a huge blaze he makes 
in the Church! What a Raiser of Doctrines! What a 
Confounder of Heresies ! What an able Interpreter of hard 
Places ! What a Resolver of Cases of Conscience ! and what 
a prudent guide must he needs be to all his parish! 

You may possibly think. Sir, that this so early preachmg 
might be easily avoided, by withholding Holy Orders; the 
Church having very prudently constituted in her Canons, that 
none under twenty-three years of age, which is the usual age 
after seven years being at the University, should be admitted 
to that great employment. 

£A/G. G.tR. VII. 17 



258 Graduates coming to a holy ripeness. [|Auy^'l67o. 

This indeed might seem to do some service, were it care- 
fully observed ; and were there not a thing to be got, called a 
Dispensation, which will presently [at once] make you as old 
as you please. 

13ut if you will, Sir, we will suppose that Orders were 
strictly denied to all, unless qualihed according to Canon. I 
cannot foresee any other remedy but that most of those 
University youngsters must fall to the parish, and become a 
town charge until they be of spiritual age. For Philosophy 
is a very idle thing, when one is cold ! and a small System of 
Divinity, though it be Wollebius himself, is not sufficient 
when one is hungry ! 

What then shall we do with them ? and where shall we 
dispose of them, until they come to a holy ripeness ? 

May we venture them into the Desk to read Service ? 
That cannot be, because not capable ! Besides, the tempting 
Pulpit usually stands too near. Or shall we trust them in 
some good Gentleman's house, there to perform holy things? 
With all my heart ! so that they may not be called down from 
their studies to say Grace to every Health ; that they may have 
a little better wages than the Cook or Butler; as also that 
there be a Ciroom in the house, besides the Chaplain (for 
sometimes to the ^£"10 a j-ear, they crowd in] the looking after 
couple of geldings) : and that he may not be sent from table, 
picking his teeth, and sighing with his hat under his arm ; 
whilst the Knight and my Lady eat up the tarts and chickens! 

It may be also convenient, if he were suffered to speak now 
and then in the Parlour, besides at Grace and Prayer time ; and 
that my cousin Abigail and he sit not too near one another 
at meals, nor be presented together to the little vicarage ! 

All this, Sir, must be thought on ! For, in good earnest, a 
person at all thoughtful of himself and conscience, had much 
better choose to live with nothing but beans and pease 
pottage, so that he might have the command of his thoughts 
and time ; than to have his Second and Third Courses, and 
to obey the unreasonable humours of some families. 

And as some think two or three years' continuance in the 
University, to be time sufficient for being very great Instru- 
ments in the Church : so others we have, so moderate as to 
count that a solemn admission and a formal paying of College 
Detriments, without tiie trouble of Philosophical discourses, 



s/ug^'lS] ^ GOOD CONSTITUTION REQUISITE FOR STUDY. 259 

disputations, and the like, are virtues that will influence as far 
as Newcastle, and improve though at ever such a distance. 

So strangely possessed are people in general, with the 
easiness and small preparation that are requisite to the 
undertaking of the Ministry, that whereas in other professions, 
they plainly see, what considerable time is spent before they 
have any hopes of arriving to skill enough to practise with 
any confidence what the}^ have designed ; yet to preach to 
ordinary people, and govern a country parish, is usually 
judged such an easy performance, that anybody counts him- 
self fit for the employment. We find very few so unreasonably 
confident of their parts, as to profess either Law or Physic, 
without either a considerable continuance in some of the Inns 
of Courts, or an industrious search in herbs, Anatomy, 
Chemistry, and the like, unless it be only to make a bond 
[bandage] or give a glyster [an injection]. But as for "the 
knack of Preaching " as they call it, that is such a very easy 
attainment, that he is counted dull to purpose, that is not 
able, at a very small warning, to fasten upon any text of 
Scripture, and to tear and tumble it, till the glass [the hour- 
glass on the pulpit] be out. 

Many, I know very well, are forced to discontinue [at 
College], having neither stock [capital] of their own, nor 
friends to maintain them in the University. But whereas a 
man's profession and employment in this world is very much 
in his own, or in the choice of such who are most nearly con- 
cerned for him ; he therefore, that foresees that he is not likely 
to have the advantage of a continued education, he had much 
better commit himself to an approved-of cobbler or tinker, 
wherein he may be duly respected according to his office and 
condition of life ; than to be only a disesteemed pettifogger or 
empiric in Divinity. 

By this time, Sir, I hope you begin to consider what a great 
disadvantage it has been to the Churcli and Religi(m, the 
mere venturous and inconsiderate determining of Youths to 
the profession of Learning. 

There is still one thing, by very few, at all minded, that 
ought also not to be overlooked : and that is, a good constitu- 
tion and health of body. And therefore discreet and wise phy- 
sicians ought also to be consulted, before an absolute resolve 



26o Sickly onf.s chosen for Choice Vessels. [Ia^^'I^^o. 

be made to live the Life of the Learned. For he that has 
strength enoujj;h to bu}' and bargain, may be of a very unfit 
habit of bod}^ to sit still so much, as, in general, is requisite to 
a competent degree of Learning. For although reading and 
thinking break neither legs nor arms ; yet, certainly, there is 
nothingthat Hags the spirits, disorders the blood, and enfeebles 
the whole body of Man, as intense studies. 

As for him that rives blocks or carries packs, there is no 
great expense of parts, no anxiety of mind, no great intellec- 
tual pensiveness. Let him but wipe his forehead, and he is 
perfectly recovered ! But he that has many languages to re- 
member, the nature of almost the whole world to consult, 
man}' histories, Fathers, and Councils to search into ; if the 
fabric of his bod}' be not strong and healthful, you will soon 
find him as thin as a piece of metaphysics, and look as piercing 
as a Schuol subtilty. 

This, Sir, could not be conveniently omitted ; not only 
because many are very careless in this point, and, at a venture, 
determine their }oung relations to Learning : but because, 
for the most part, if, amongst many, there be but one of all 
the family that is weak and sickly, that is languishing and 
consumptive ; this, of all the rest, as counted not fit for any 
coarse employment, shall be picked out as a Choice Vessel 
for the Church ! Whereas, most evidently, he is much more 
able to dig daily in the mines, than to set cross-legged, 
musing upon his book. 

I am very sensible, how obvious it might be, here, to hint 
that this so curious and severe Inquiry would much hinder 
the practice, and abate the flourishing of the Universities ; 
as also, there have been several, and are still, many Living 
Creatures in the world, who, whilst young, being of a very 
slow and meek apprehension, have yet afterward cheered up 
into a great briskness, and become masters of much reason. 
And others there have been, who, although forced to a short 
continuance in the University, and that ofttimes interrupted 
by unavoidable services, have yet, by singular care and in- 
dustry, proved very famous in their generation. And lastly, 
some also, of very feeble and crazy constitutions in their 
childhood, have out-studied their distempers, and have 
become very healthful and serviceable in the Church. 

As for the Nourishing, Sir, of the Universities — what has 



J Ea,:hara.-irj^P_^cn'Y, Health, i\Iaixtexa\xe required. 261 

been before said, aims not in the least at Gentlemen, whose 
coming thither is chiefly for the hopes of single personal im- 
provement ; and whose estates do free them from the necessity 
of making a gain of Arts and Sciences : but only at such as 
intend to make Learning their profession, as well as [their] 
accomplishment. So that our Schools may be still as full of 
flourishings, of fine clothes, rich gowns, and future benefactors, 

3.S Gvcr» 

And suppose we do imagine, as it is necessary we should, 
that the number should be a little lessened ; this surely will 
not abate the true splendour of a University in any man's 
opinion, but his who reckons the flourishing thereof, rather 
from the multitude of mere gowns than from the Ingenuity 
and Learning of those that wear them : no more than we 
have reason to count the flourishing of the Church from that 
vast number of people that crowd into Holy Orders, rather 
than from those learned and useful persons that defend her 
Truths, and manifest her Ways. 

But I sav, I do not see any perfect necessity that our 
Schools should hereupon be thinned and less frequented : 
having said nothing against the Multitude, but the indncrcct 
choice. If therefore, instead of such, either of inferior 
parts or a feeble constitution, or of unable friends ; there 
were picked out those that were of a tolerable ingenuity 
[natural capacity], of a study-bearing body, and had good 
hopes of being continued ; as hence there is nothmg to 
hinder our Universities from being full, so likewise from 
being of great credit and learning. 

Not to deny, then, but that, now and then, there has been 
a lad of very submissive parts, and perhaps no great share 
of time allowed him for his studies, who has proved, beyond 
all expectation, brave and glorious : yet, surely, we are not 
to over-reckon this so rare a hit, as to think that one such 
proving lad should make recompense and satisfaction for 
those many " weak ones," as the common people love to 
phrase them, that are in the Church. And that no care 
ought to be taken, no choice made, no maintenance provided 
or'' considered ; because (now and then in an Age) one, 
miraculously, beyond all hopes, proves learned and useful ; 
is a practice, whereby never greater mischiefs and disestecm 
have been brought upon the Clergy. 



262 University wants. English cu^itosition. [jl.^^g^^'^^j;^; 

I have, in short, Sir, run over what seemed to me, the 
First Occasions of that Small Learning that is to he found 
amongst some of the Clergy. I shall now pass from School- 
ing to the Universities. 



I am not so unmindful of that devotion which I owe to 
those places, nor of that great esteem I profess to have of 
the Guides and Governors thereof, as to go about to pre- 
scribe new Forms and Schemes of lulucation ; where Wisdom 
has laid her top-stone. Neither shall I here examine which 
Philosophy, the Old or New, makes the best sermons. It is 
hard to say, that exhortations can be to no purpose, if the 
preacher believes that the earth turns round 1 or that his 
reproofs can take no effect, unless he will suppose a vacuum ! 
There have been good sermons, no question ! made in the 
days of Materia Prima and Occult Qualities: and there are, 
doubtless, still good discourses now, under the reign of 
Atoms. 

There are but two things, wherein I count the Clergy 
chiefly concerned, as to University Improvements, that, at 
present, I shall make Inquiry into. 

And the first is this : Whether or not it were not highly 
useful, especially for the Clergy who are supposed to speak 
English to the people, that English Exercises were imposed 
iipon lads, if not in Public Schools, yet at least privately. 
Not but that I am abundantly satisfied that Latin (O 
Latin ! it is the all in all ! and the very cream of the jest !) ; 
as also, tbat Oratory is the same in all languages, the same 
rules being observed, the same method, the same arguments 
and arts of persuasion : but yet, it seems somewhat beyond 
the reach of ordinary youth so to apprehend those general 
Laws as to make a just and allowable use of them in all 
languages, unless exercised particularly in them. 

Now we know the language that the very learned part of 
this nation must trust to live by, unless it be to make a bond 
[bandage] or prescribe a purge (which possibly may not oblige 
or work so well in any other language as Latin) is the 
Lnglish : and after a lad has taken his leave of Madame 
University, GOD bless him ! he is not likely to deal after- 
wardi: with much Latin ; unless it be to checker [variegate] 



s'aS' fo7a.] Writing tossing nons::nse in letters. 263 

a sermon, or to say Salvcio ! to some travelling Dominaiio 
vcstra. Neither is it enough to say, that the English is the 
language with which we are swaddled and rociced asleep ; and 
therefore there needs none of this artificial and superadded 
care. For there he those that speak very well, plainly, and 
to the purpose ; and yet write most pernicious and fantastical 
stuff: thinking that whatsoever is written must be more than 
ordinary, must be beyond the guise [manner] of common 
speech, must savour of reading and Learning, though it be 
altogether needless, and perfectly ridiculous. 

Neither ought we to suppose it sufficient that English books 
be frequently read, because there be of all sorts, good and bad ; 
and the woist are likely to be admired by Youth more than 
the best : unless Exercises be required of lads ; w^hereby it 
may be guessed what their judgement is, where they be 
mistaken, and what authors they propound to themselves for 
imitation. For by this means, they may be corrected and 
ad\'ised early, according as occasion shall require: which, if 
not done, their ill style will be so confirmed, their impro- 
prieties of speech will become so natural, that it will be a 
very hard matter to stir or alter their fashion of writing. 

It is ver}' curious to observe what delicate letters, your V 
j'oung students write ! after they have got a little smack of 
University learning. In what elaborate heights, and tossing 
nonsense, will they greet a right down English father, or 
country friend ! If there be a plain word in it, and such as 
is used at home, this "tastes not," say they, " of education 
among philosophers ! *' and is counted damnable duncery and 
want of fancy. Because " Your loving friend" or "humble 
servant " is a common phrase in country letters ; therefore 
the young Epistler is " Yours, to the Antipodes ! " or at least 
"to the Centre of the earth ! " : and because ordinary folks 
"love" and "respect" you; therefore you are to him, "a 
Pole Star!" "a Jacob's Staff!" "a Loadstone!" and " a 
damask Rose ! " 

And the misery of it is, that this pernicious accustomed 
way of expression does not only, ofttimes, go along with them 
to their benefice, but accompanies them to the very grave. 

And, for the most part, an ordinary cheesemonger or plum- 
seller, that scarce lyl ever heard of a University, shall write 
much better sense, and more to the purpose than these young 



264 A Lati\ Oration at tiik Universities. [tx^^fH 



Facliard. 
670. 



philosophers, who injudiciously hunting only for great words, 
make themselves learnedly ridiculous. 

Neither can it he easily apprehended, how the use of 
English Exercises should any ways hinder the improvement 
in the Latin tongue ; but rather be much to its advantage : 
and this may be easily believed, considering what dainty 
stuff is usually produced for a Latin entertainment ! Chicken 
broth is not thinner than that which is commonly offered 
for a Piece of most pleading and convincing Sense ! 

For, I will but suppose an Academic youngster to be put 
upon a Latin Oration. Away he goes presently to his maga- 
zine of collected phrases! He picks out all the (ilitterings 
he can find. He hauls in all Proverbs, " Flowers," Poetical 
snaps [siiaiches], Tales out of the Dictionary, or else ready 
Latined to his hand, out of Lycosthenes. 

This done, he comes to the end of the table, and having 
made a submissive leg [made a submissive bow] and a little 
admired If^azcd at^ the number, and understanding coun- 
tenances of his auditors : let the subject be what it will, he 
falls presently into a most lamentable complaint of his insuf- 
ficiency and tenuity [slenderness] that he, poor thing ! " hath 
no acquaintance with above a Muse and a half! " and " that 
he never drank above six quarts of Helicon ! " and you " have 
put him here upon such a task " (perhaps the business is 
only. Which is the nobler creature, a Flea or a Louse ? ) 
" that would much better fit some old soaker at Parnassus, 
than his sipping unexperienced bibbership." Alas, poor 
child ! he is " sorry, at the very soul ! that he has no better 
speech ! and wonders in his heart, that you will lose so much 
time as to hear him ! for he has neither squibs nor fireworks, 
stars nor glories ! The cursed carrier lost his best Look of 
Phrases ; and the malicious mice and rats eat up all his 
Pearls and Golden Sentences.'" 

Then he tickles over, a little, the skirts of the business. 
By and by, for similitude from the Sun and Moon, or if they 
be not at leisure, from " the grey-eyed Morn," or "a shady 
grove," or " a purling stream." 

This done, he tells you that " Bavnahy r>riij!^ht would be 
much too short, for him to tell you all that he could say " : 
and so, "fearing he should break the thread of your patience," 
he concludes. 



J-7-''='T''-1 University wants. Putting down tunning. 2 05 

8 Aug. 1670.J ^^ ^ 

Now it seems, Sir, very probable, that if lads did but first 
of all, determine in English what they intended to say in 
Latin ; they would, of themselves, soon discern the tritiin,<;- 
ness of such Apologies, the pitifulness of their Matter, and 
the impertinencv of their Tales and Fancies: and would (accord- 
ing to their subject, age, and parts) offer that which would 
be much more manly, and towards tolerable sense. 

And if I may tell you. Sir, what I really think, most of that 
ridiculousness, of those phantastical phrases, harsh and 
sometimes blasphemous metaphors, abundantly foppish 
similitudes, childish and empty transitions, and the like, so 
commonly uttered out of pulpits, and so fatally redoundmg 
to the discredit of the Clergy, may, in a great measure, be 
charged upon the want of that, which we have here so much 
contended for. 

The second Inquiry that may be made is this : Whether 
or not Punning, Quibblinf(, and that which they call Joquing 
ijoking", and such delicacies of Wit, highly admired in some 
Academic Exercises, might not be very conveniently omittedl 

For one may desire but to know this one thing : In what 
Profession shall that sort of Wit prove of advantage ? As for 
Law, where nothing but the most reaching subtility and the 
closest arguing is allowed of; it is not to be imagined that 
blending now and then a piece of a dry verse, and wreathing 
here and there an odd Latin Saying into a dismal jmgle, 
should give Title to an estate, or clear out an obscure evidence! 
And as little serviceable can it be to Physic, which is made 
up of severe Reason and well tried Experiments ! 

And as for Divinity, in this place I shall say no more, but 
that those usually that have been Rope Dancers in the 
Schools, ofttimes prove Jack Puddings in the Pulpit. 

For he that in his youth has allowed himself this hbert}' of 
Academic Wit ; by this means he has usually so thinned his 
judgement, becomes so prejudiced against sober sense, and 
so altogether disposed to trifling and jingling: that, so soon 
as he gets hold of a text, he presently thinks he has catched 
one of his old School Questions ; and so falls a flinging it 
out of one hand into another! tossing it this way, and that ! 
Jets it run a little upon the line, then " tanutus ! high jingo! 
come again !" here catching at a word ! there lie nibbling and 
sucking at an and, a by, a quis or a quid, a sic or a sicut ! and 



266 How TO MAKE A MAN PESTILENTLY WITTY. [^AuSe?"- 

thus minces the Text so small that his parishioners, until he 
rciiclczions [reassemble] it again, can scarce tell, what is become 
of it. 

But " Shall we debar Youth of such an innocent and 
harmless recreation, of such a great quickener of Parts and 
promoter of sagacity ?" 

As for the first, its innocency of being allowed of for a 
time ; I am so far from that persuasion that, from what has 
been before hinted, I count it perfectly contagious ! and as 
a thing that, for the most part, infects the whole life, and 
influences most actions ! For he that finds himself to have 
the right knack of letting off a joque, and of pleasing the 
Humsters ; he is not only very hardly brought off from 
admiring those goodly applauses, and heavenly shouts; but 
it is ten to one ! if he directs not the whole bent of his studies 
to such idle and contemptible books as shall only furnish 
him with materials for a laugh ; and so neglects all that 
should inform his Judgement and Reason, and make him a 
man of sense and reputation in this world. 

And as for the pretence of making people sagacious, and 
pestilently witty ; I shall only desire that the nature of that 
kind of Wit may be considered ! which will be found to 
depend upon some such fooleries as these — 

As, first of all, the lucky ambiguity of some word or 
sentence. O, what a happiness is it ! and how much does 
a youngster count himself beholden to the stars ! that 
should help him to such a taking jest ! And whereas 
there be so man}' thousand words in the World, and that 
he should luck upon the right one ! that was so very 
much to his purpose, and that at the explosion, made 
such a goodly report ! 

Or else they rake Lilly's Grauiinar; and if the}' can 
but find two or three letters of any name in any of the 
Rules or Examples of that good man's Works ; it is as 
very a piece of Wit as any has passed in the Town since 
the King came in iiGGOj ! 

O, how the Freshmen will skip, to hear one of those 

lines well laughed at, that they have been so often }erked 

[c hided] for ! 

It is true, such things as these go for Wit so long as they 

continue in Latin; but what dismally shrimped things would 



J F.aci.nrd.-|g^TGLisii Society is now for one language. 267 

they appear, if turned into English ! And if we search into 
what was, or might he pretended ; we shall find the advan- 
tages of Latin-Wit to be very small and slender, when it 
comes into the World. I mean not only among strict Philo- 
sophers and Men of mere Notions, or amongst all-damning 
and illiterate Hectors; but amongst those that are truly 
ingenious and judicious Masters of Fancy. We shall find that 
a quotation out of Qid mihi, an Axiom out of Logic, a Saying 
of a Philosopher, or the like, though managed with some 
quickness and applied with some seeming ingenuity, will 
not, in our days, pass, or be accepted, for Wit. 

For we must know that, as we are now in an Age of great 
Philosophers and Men of Reason, so of great quickness and 
fancy ! and that Greek and Latin, which heretofore (though 
never so impertinently fetched in) was counted admirable, 
because it had a learned twang ; yet, now, such stuff, being 
out of fashion, is esteemed but very bad company ! 

For the World is now, especially in discourse, for One 
Language ! and he that has somewhat in his mind of Greek and 
Latin, is requested, now-a-days, " to be civil, and translate it 
into English, for the benefit of the company ! " And he that 
has made it his whole business to accomplish himself for the 
applause of boys, schoolmasters, and the easiest of Country 
Divines; and has been shouldered out of the Cockpit for his 
Wit : when he comes into the World, is the most likely person 
to be kicked out of the company, for his pedantry and over- 
weening opinion of himself. 

And, were it necessary, it is an easy matter to appeal to 
Wits, both ancient and modern, that (beyond all controversy) 
have been sufficiently approved of, that never, I am confident! 
received their improvements by employing their time in Puns 
and Quibbles. There is the prodigious Lucian, the great Don 
[Quixote] of Mancha; and there are many now living. Wits 
of our own, who never, certainly, were at all inspired from 
a Triptis's, Tcrra-filius's, or Pravarecator's speech. 

I have ventured, Sir, thus far, not to find fault with : but 
only to inquire into an ancient custom or two of the Univer- 
sities ; wherein the Clergy seem to be a little concerned, as to 
their education there. 

I shall now look on them as beneficed, and consider their 



268 Swaggering WITH Tall Words & NoTioNs.y/^;':';::;^ 

preaching. Wherein I pretend to give no rules, having 
neither any gift at it, nor authority to do it : hut only shall 
make some conjectures at those useless and ridiculous things 
commonly uttered in pulpits, that are generally disgusted 
[disliked], and are very apt to bring contempt upon the 
preacher, and that religion which he professes. 
,^ Amongst the first things that seem to be useless, may be 
reckoned the hi^h tossing and swaggering prcacJiing, either 
mountingly eloquent, or profoundly learned. For there be a 
sort of Divines, who, if they but happen of an unlucky hard 
word all the week, they think themselves not careful of their 
flock, if they lay it not up till Sunday, and bestow it amongst 
them, in their next preachment. Or if they light upon some 
difficult and obscure notion, which their curiosity inclines 
them to be better acquainted with, how useless soever ! 
nothing so frequent as for them, for a month or iwo months 
together, to tear and tumble this doctrine ! and the poor 
people, once a week, shall come and gaze upon them by the 
hour, until they preach themselves, as they think, into a 
right understanding. 

Those that are inclinable to make these useless speeches 
to the people ; they do it, for the most part, upon one of 
these two considerations. Either out of simple phantastic 
glory, and a great studiousness of being wondered at : as if 
getting into the pulpit were a kind of Staging [acting] ; where 
nothing was to be considered but how much the sermon 
takes ! and how much stared at ! Or else, they do this to 
gain a respect and reverence from their people : " who," say 
they, " are to be puzzled now and then, and carried into the 
clouds ! For if the Minister's words be such as the Con- 
stable uses ; his matter plain and practical, such as comes 
to the common market : he may pass possibly for an honest 
and well-meaning man, but by no means for any scholar ! 
Whereas if he springs forth, now and then, in high raptures 
towards the uppermost heavens; dashing, here and there, an 
all-confounding word ! if he soars aloft in unintelligible huffs ! 
preaches points deep and mystical, and delivers them as 
darkly and phantastically ! this is the way," say they, " of 
being accounted a most able and learned Instructor." 

Otliers there be, whose parts stand not so much towards 
Tall Words and Loft}' Notions, but consist in scattering up 



J.EacharcU SwAGGERIXG WITH LaTIX, GrEEK,& HeBREW. 269 

8 Aug. 1670. J "^ 

and down and besprinkling all their sermons with plenty of 
Greek and Latin. And because St. Paul, once or so, was 
pleased to make use of a little heathen Greek ; and that only, 
when he had occasion to discourse with some of the learned 
ones that well understood him : therefore must they needs 
bring in twenty Poets and Philosophers, if they can catch 
them into an hour's talk [evidently the ordinary length of a 
sermon at this time, see pp. 259, 313] ; spreading themselves 
in abundance of Greek and Latm, to a company, perhaps, 
of farmers and shepherds. 

Neither will they rest there, but have at the Hebrew also ! 
not contenting themselves to tell the people in general, that 
they " have skill in the Text, and the exposition they offer, 
a<^rees with the Original" ; but must swagger also over the 
pSor parishioners, with the dreadful Hebrew itself! with 
their Ben-Israels ! Bex-Manasses ! and many more Bens 
that they are intimately acquainted with ! whereas there is 
nothing in the church, or near it by a mile, that understands 
them, but GOD Almighty! whom, it is supposed, they go not 
about to inform or satisfy. 

This learned way of talking, though, for the most part, it 
is done merely out of ostentation : yet, sometimes (which 
makes not the case much better), it is done in compliment 
and civility to the all-wise Patron, or all-understanding 
Justice of the Peace in the parish ; who, by the common 
farmers of the town, must be thought to understand the 
most intricate notions, and the most difficult languages. 

Now, what an admirable thing this is! Suppose there 
should be one or so, in the whole church, that understands 
somewhat besides English : shall I not think that he under- 
stands that better ? Must I (out of courtship to his Worship 
and Understanding ; and because, perhaps, I am to dine 
with him) prate abundance of such stuff, which, I must 
needs know, nobody understands, or that will be the better for 
it but himself, and perhaps scarcely he ? 

This, I say, because I certainly know several of that dis- 
position : who, if they chance to have a man of any learning 
or understanding more than the rest in the parish, preach 
wholly at him! and level most of their discourses at his 
supposed capacity; and the rest of the good people shall 
have only a handsome gaze or view of the parson ! As it 



2/0 The Parson to preach to all the parish, [s^a^'^';';? 



'd. 



plain words, useful and intelH,£^ible instructions were not as 
j^ood for an Esquire, or one that is in Commission from the 
King, as for him that holds the plough or mends hedges. 

Certainly he that considers the design of his Office, and 
has a conscience answerable to that holy undertaking, must 
needs conceive himself engaged, not only to mind this or that 
accomplished or well-dressed person, but must have a uni- 
versal care and regard of all his parish. And as he must 
think himself bound, not only to visit down beds and silken 
curtains, but also flocks and straw {maUre^ses\y if there be 
need : so ought his care to be as large to instruct the poor, 
the weak, and despicable part of his parish, as those that sit 
in the best pews. He that does otherwise, thinks not at all 
of a man's soul : but only accommodates himself to fine 
clothes, an abundance of ribbons, and the highest seat in the 
church ; not thinking that it will be as much to his reward in 
the next world, by sober advice, care, and instruction, to 
have saved one that takes collection {ahn^\ as him that is able 
to relieve half the town. It is very plain that neither our 
Saviour, when he was upon earth and taught the \\'orld, 
made any such distinction in his discourses. What is more 
intelligible to all mankind than his Sermon upon the Mount ! 
Neither did the Apostles think of any such way. I wonder, 
whom they take for a pattern ! 

I will suppose once again, that the design of these persons 
is to gain glory : and I shall ask them, Can there be any 
greater in the w^orld, than doing general good ? To omit future 
reward, Was it not always esteemed of old, that correcting 
evil practices, reducing people that lived amiss, was much 
better than making a high rant about a shuttlecock, and 
talking tara-tanlara about a feather? Or if they would be 
only admired, then would I gladly have them consider, What 
a thin and delicate kind of admiration is likely to be produced, 
by that which is not at all understood ? Certainly, that man 
has a design of building up to himself real fame in good 
earnest, by things well laid and spoken : his way to effect it 
is not by talking staringly, and casting a mist before the 
people's eyes; but by offering such things b}^ which he may 
be esteemed, with knowledge and understanding. 

Thus far concerning Hard W'ords, High Notions, and Un- 
profitable Quotations out of learned languages. 



J F.ndwrd.-| J^.\c;n USE OF FuiGIITrUL jNlKTAniORS. 



271 



I shall now consider such ih'mf:;?, as are ridiculous, that serve 
for chimney and market talk, after the sermon be done ; and 
that do cause, more immediately, the preacher to be scorned 
and undervalued. 

I have no reason, Sir, to go about to determine what style 
or method is best for the improvement and advantage of all 
people. For, I question not but there have heen as many 
several sorts of Preachers as Orators ; and though very 
different, yet useful and commendable in their kind. Tully 
takes very deservedly with many, Seneca with others, and 
Cato, no question ! said things wisely and well. So, doubt- 
less, the same place of Scripture may by several, be variously 
considered: and although their method and style be altogether 
different, yet they may all speak things very convenient for 
the people to know and be advised of. But yet, certainly, 
what is most undoubtedly useless and empty, or what is 
judged absolutely ridiculous, not by this or that curious or 
squeamish auditor, but by every man in the Corporation that 
understands but plain English and common sense, ought to 
be avoided. For all people are naturally born with such a 
judgement of true and allowable Rhetoric, that is, of what is 
decorous and convenient to be spoken, that whatever is 
grossly otherwise is usually ungrateful, not only to the wise 
and skilful part of the congregation, but shall seem also 
ridiculous to the very unlearned tradesmen [mechanics] and 
their young apprentices. Amongst which, may be chiefly \ 
reckoned these following, harsh Metaphors, childish Similitudes, ^ 
and ill-applied Tales. 



The first main thing, I say, that makes many sermons so 
ridiculous, and the preachers of them so much disparaged 
and undervalued, is an inconsiderate use of frightful Metaphors: 
which making such a remarkable impression upon the ears, 
and leaving such a jarring twang behind them, are oftentimes 
remembered to the discredit of the Minister as long as he 
continues in the parish. 

I have heard the very children in the streets, and the little 
boys close about the lire, refresh themselves strangely but 
with the repetition of a few of such far-fetched and odd 
sounding expressions. Tully, therefore, and CiESAR, the 



\ 



272 Nautical and Military Metaphors. [^■Aug!'']67o: 

two .G^reatest masters of Roman eloquence, were very wary 
and sparing of that sort of Rhetoric. We may read many a 
page in their works before we meet with any of those bears ; 
and if you do light upon one or so, it shall not make your 
hair stand right up ! or put you into a fit of convulsions ! but 
it shall be so soft, significant, and familiar, as if it were made 
for the very purpose. 

But as for the common sort of people that are addicted to 
this sort of expression in their discourses ; away presently to 
both the Indies ! rake heaven and earth ! down to the bottom 
of the sea 1 then tumble over all Arts and Sciences I ransack 
all shops and warehouses ! spare neither camp nor city, but 
that they will have them ! ' So fond are such deceived ones 
of these same gay words, that they count all discourses 
empty, dull, and cloudy ; unless bespangled with these 
glitterings. Nay, so injudicious and impudent together will 
they sometimes be, that the Almighty Himself is often in 
danger of being dishonoured by these indiscreet and horrid 
Metaphor-mongers. And when they thus blaspheme the 
God of Heaven by such unhallowed expressions ; to make 
amends, they will put you in an " As it were " forsooth ! or 
" As I may so say," that is, they will make bold to speak 
what they please concerning GOD Himself, rather than omit 
what they judge, though never so falsely, to be witty. And 
then they come in hobbling with their lame submission, and 
with their " reverence be it spoken " : as if it were not much 
better to leave out what they foresee is likely to be inter- 
preted for blasphemy, or at least great extravagancy ; than 
to utter that, for which their own reason and conscience tell 
them, they are bound to lay in beforehand an excuse. 

To which may be further subjoined, that Metaphors, though 
very apt and allowable, are intelligible but to some sorts of 
men, of this or that kind of life, of this or that profession. 

For example, perhaps one Gentleman's metaphorical knack 
of preaching comes of the sea ; and then we shall hear of 
nothing but " starboard " and " larboard," of " stems," 
" sterns," and "forecastles," and such salt-water language: 
so that one had need take a voyage to Smyrna or Aleppo, 
and very warily attend to all the sailors' terms, before I shall 
in the least understand my teacher. Now, though such a 
sermon may possibly do some good in a coast town ; } et 



sAug^'^^Sl Sermons packed with Similitudes, 



-V3 



upward into the country, in an inland parish, it will do no 
more than Syriac or Arabic. 

Another, he falls a fighting with his text, and makes a 
pitched battle of it, dividing it into the Right Wing and 
Left Wing ; then he rears it ! flanks it ! intrencJics it ! storms it ! 
and then he musters all again ! to see what word was lost or 
lamed in the skirmish: and so falling on again, with fresh 
A-alour, he fights backward and forw^ard ! charges through 
and through ! routs ! kills 1 takes ! and then, " Gentlemen ! 
as you were ! " Now to such of his parish as have been in 
the late wars, this is not very formidable ; for they do but 
suppose themselves at Edgehill or Naseby, and they are not 
much scared at his doctrine : but as for others, who have not 
had such fighting opportunities, it is very lamentable to con- 
sider how shivering they sit without understanding, till the 
battle be over ! 

Like instance might be easily given of many more dis- 
courses, the metaphorical phrasing whereof, depending upon 
peculiar arts, customs, trades, and professions, makes them 
useful and intelligible only to such, who have been very well 
busied in such like employments. . • - 

Another thing. Sir, that brings great disrespect and mischief 
upon the Clergy, and that differs not much from what went 
immediately before, is their packing their sermons so full of 
Similitudes ; which, all the World knows, carry with them but 
very small force of argument, unless there be an exact agree- 
ment with that which is compared, of which there is very seldom 
any sufficient care taken. 

Besides, those that are addicted to this slender way of 
discourse, for the most part, do so weaken and enfeeble their 
judgement, by contenting themselves to understand by 
colours, features, and glimpses ; that they perfectly omit all 
the more profitable searching into the nature and causes of 
things themselves. By which means, it necessarily comes 
to pass, that what they undertake to prove and clear out to 
the Congregation, must needs be so faintly done, and with 
such little force of argument, that the conviction or persuasion 
will last no longer in the parishioners' minds, than the 
warmth of those similitudes shall glow in their fancy. So 
that he that has either been instructed in some part of his 

£.VG. Gar. VII. l8 



/" 



2 74 Beauty of our Saviour's Similitudes, [saus!"''."! 

duty, or excited to the performance of the same, not by any 
judicious dependence of things, and lasting reason ; but by 
such faint and toyish evidence : his understanding, upon all 
occasions, will be as apt to be misled as ever, and his 
affections as troublesome and ungovernable. 

But they are not so Unserviceable, as, usually, they are 
Ridiculous. For people of the weakest parts are most com- 
monly overborn with these fooleries; which, together with 
the great difficulty of their being prudently managed, must 
needs occasion them, for the most part, to be very trifling 
and childishy 

Especially, if we consider the choiceness of the authors 
out of which they are furnished. There is the never-to-be- 
commended-enough Lycosthenes. There is also the adm.i- 
rable piece [by Francis Meres] called the Second Part of 
Wits Commonwealth [1598] : I pray mind it ! it is the Second 
Part, and not the First ! And there is, besides, a book wholly 
consisting of Similitudes [ ? John Spencer's Things New 
and Old, or a Storehouse of Similics, Sentences, Allegories, &c., 
1658] applied and ready fitted to most preaching subjects, for 
the help of young beginners, who sometimes will not make 
them hit handsomely. 

It is very well known that such as are possessed with an 
admiration of such eloquence, think that they are very much 
encouraged in their way by the Scripture itself. ** For," say 
they, " did not our blessed Saviour himself use many meta- 
phors and many parables? and did not his disciples, following 
his so excellent an example, do the like ? And is not this, 
not only warrant enough, but near upon a command to us 
so to do ? " 

If you please, therefore, we will see what our Saviour does 
in this case. In St. Matthew he tells his disciples, that " they 
are the salt of the earth," that " they are the light of the 
world," that " they are a city set on a hill." Furthermore, 
he tells his Apostles, that " he sends them forth as sheep in 
the midst of wolves ; " and bids them therefore " be as wise 
as serpents, and harmless as doves." Now, are not all these 
things plain and familiar, even almost to children themselves, 
that can but taste and see ; and to men of the lowest education 
and meanest capacities ! 

I shall not here insist upon those special and admirable 



gAuS^'^'^ro] Man's Soul likened to an Oyster. 275 

reasons for which our Saviour made use of so many parables. 
Only thus much is needful to be said, namely, that they are 
very much mistaken, that, from hence, think themselves 
tolerated to turn all the world into frivolous and abominable 
similitudes. 

As for our Saviour, when he spoke a parable, he was 
pleased to go no further than the fields, the seashore, a 
garden, a vineyard, or the like; which are things, without 
the knowledge whereof, scarcely any man can be supposed 
to live in this world. 

But as for our Metaphorical- and Similitude-Men of the 
Pulpit, these things to them, are too still and languid ! they 
do not rattle and rumble ! These lie too near home, and 
within vulgar ken I There is little on this side the moon 
that will content them ! Up, presently, to the Pvimuni 
Mobile, and the Trepidation of the Firmament ! Dive into 
the bowels and hid treasures of the earth ! Despatch forth- 
with, for Peru and Jamaica ! A town bred or country bred 
similitude is worth nothing ! 

" It is reported of a tree growing upon the bank of 

Euphrates, the great river Euphrates! that it brings forth 

an Apple, to the eye very fair and tempting ; but inwardly 

it is filled with nothing but useless and deceiving dust. 

Even so, dust we are; and to dust we must all go!" 

Now, what a lucky discovery was this, that a man's Body 

should be so exactly like an Apple ! And, I will assure you 

that this was not thought on, till within these few years ! 

And I am afraid, too, he had a kind of a hint of this, 

from another who had formerly found out that a man's 

Soul was like an Oyster. For, says he in his prayer, 

*'Our souls are constantly gaping after thee, O LORD ! 

yea, verily, our souls do gape, even as an oyster gapeth ! " 

It seems pretty hard, at first sight, to bring into a sermon 

all the Circles of the Globe and all the frightful terms of 

Astronomy ; but I will assure you, Sir, it is to be done ! 

because it has been. But not by every bungler and ordinary 

text-divider ; but by a man of great cunning and experience. 

There is a place in the prophet Malachi, where it will 

do very nicely, and that is chapter iv. ver. 2, "But unto 

you, that fear my Name, shall the Sun of Righteousness 

arise with healing in his wings." From which words, in 



2/6 Our Saviour rassed through the Zodiac! p,-^;;;,':';-;'.^^ 

the first place, it plainly appears that our Saviour passed 
through all the twelve signs of the Zodiac; and more than 
that too, all proved by very apt and familiar places of 
Scripture. 

First, then, our Saviour was in Aries. Or else, what 
means that of the Psalmist, "The mountains skipped like 
rams, and the little hills like lambs ! " ? And again, that 
in Second of the Kings, chap. iii. ver. 4, " And Mesha, 
King of Moab, was a sheep master, and rendered unto the 
King of Israel an hundred thousand lambs," and what 
follows, "and an hundred thousand rams, with the wool!" 
Mind it ! it was the King of Israel ! 

In like manner, was he in Tatiriis. Psalm xxii. 12. 
" Many bulls have compassed me ! Strong bulls of 
Bashan have beset me round ! " They were not ordinary 
bulls. They were compassing bulls ! they were besetting 
bulls ! they were strong Bashan bulls ! 

What need I speak of Gemini ? Surely you cannot but 
remember Esau and Jacob ! Genesis xxv. 24. " And 
when her days to be delivered were fulfilled, behold there 
were Twins in her womb ! " 

Or of Cancer? when, as the Psalmist says so plainly, 
" What ailed thee, O thou sea, that thou fleddest ? thou 
Jordan! that thou wast driven back?" Nothing more 
plain ! 

It were as easy to shew the like in all the rest of the 
Signs. 

But instead of that, I shall rather choose to make this 
one practical Observation. That the mercy of GOD to 
mankind in sending His Son into the world, was a very 
signal mercy. It was a zodiacal mercy ! I say it was 
truly zodiacal ; for Christ keeps within the Tropics ! He 
goes not out of the Pale of the Church ; but yet he is 
not always at the same distance from a believer. Some- 
times he withdraws himself into the apoganm of doubt, 
sorrow, and despair; but then he comes again into the 
perigicnm of joy, content, and assurance ; but as for 
heathens and unbelievers, they are all arctic and ant- 
arctic reprobates ! " 
Now when such stuff as this, as sometimes it is, is vented 
in a poor parish, where people can scarce tell, what day of 



-^A^'g'S;] Wonderful things done by Metaphors. 277 

the month it is by the Almanack ? how seasonable and savoury 
it is likely to be ! 

It seems also not very easy for a man in his sermon to 
learn [teach] his parishioners how to Jissolve gold, of what, 
and how the stuff is made. Now, to ring the bells and call 
the people on purpose together, would be but a blunt 
business ; but to do it neatly, and when nobody looked for it, 
that is the rarity and art of it 1 

Suppose, then, that he takes for his text that of St. Matthew^yr- 
" Repent ye, for the Kingdom of GOD is at hand." 
Now, tell me. Sir, do you not perceive the gold to be in 
a dismal fear! to curl and quiver at the first reading of 
these words ! It must come in thus, *' The blots and 
blurs of our sins must be taken out by the aqua-fortis of 
our tears ; to which aqua-fortis, if you put a fifth part of 
sal-ammoniac, and set them in a gentle heat, it makes ^ 
aqiia-regia which dissolves gold." 
And now it is out ! Wonderful are the things that are to be 
done by the help of metaphors and similitudes ! And I will 
undertake that, with a little more pains and considerations, 
out of the very same words, he could have taught the people 
how to make custards, or marmalade, or to stew prunes ! 

But, pray, why " the aqua-fortis of tears ? " For if it so 
falls out that there should chance to be neither Apothecary, 
nor Druggist at church, there is an excellent jest wholly 
lost ! 

Now had he been so considerate as to have laid his wit in 
some more common and intelligible material ; for example, 
had he said the " blots of sin " will be easily taken out " by 
the soap of sorrow, and the fullers-earth of contrition," then 
possibly the Parson and the parish might all have admired 
one another. For there be many a good-wife that under- 
stands very well all the intrigues of pepper, salt, and vinegar, 
who knows not anything of the all-powerfulness of aqua- 
fortis, how that it is such a spot-removing liquor ! 

I cannot but consider with what understanding the people 
sighed and cried, when the Minister made for them this 
metaphysical confession : 

Omnipotent All ! Thou art only ! Because Thou art 
all, and because Thou only art ! As for us, we are not ; 
but we seem to be ! and only seem to be, because we 



: 78 Parson Slip-Stocking. Spiritual hucksters. [^' 



:liard. 
16-0. 



are not ! for we be but Mites of Entity, and Crumbs of 
Something!" and so on. 
As if a company of country people were bound to understand 
SuAKEZ, and all the School Divines ! 

And as some are very high and learned in their attempts; 
so others there be, who are of somewhat too mean and dirty 
imagination. 

Such was he, who goes by the name of Parson Slip- 
Stocking. Who preaching about the grace and assistance 
of GOD, and that of ourselves we are able to do nothing, 
advised his " beloved" to take him this plain similitude. 

" A father calls his child to him, saying, ' Child, pull 
off this stocking ! ' The child, mightily joyful that it 
should pull off father's stocking, takes hold of the stock- 
ing, and tugs! and pulls! and sweats! but to no purpose: 
for stocking stirs not, for it is but a child that pulls ! 
Then the father bids the child to rest a little, and try 
again. So then the child sets on again, tugs again; but 
no stocking comes : for child is but a child ! Then the 
father taking pity upon his child, puts his hand behind 
and slips down the stocking; and off comes the stocking ! 
Then how does the child rejoice ! for child hath pulled oft* 
father's stocking. Alas, poor child ! it was not child's 
strength, it was not child's sweating that got off the 
stocking ; but yet it was the father's hand that slipped 
down the stocking. Even so " 



Not much unlike to this, was he that, preaching about the 
Sacrament and Faith, makes Christ a shopkeeper; telling 
you that *' Christ is a Treasury of all wares and com- 
modities," and thereupon, opening his wide throat, cries aloud, 
" Good people ! what do you lack ? What do you 
buy? Will you buy any balm of Gilead ? any eye salve ? 
any myrrh, aloes, or cassia ? Shall I fit you with a robe 
of Righteousness, or with a white garment ? See here I 
What is it ycni want ? Here is a choice armoury! Shall I 
shew you a helmet of Sahation, a shield, or breastplateof 
Faith? or will you please to walk in and see some precious 
stones ? a jasper, a sapphire, a chalcedony ? Speak, 
what do you buy?" 
Now, for my part, I must needs say (and I much fancy I 
sjK'ak the miml of thousands) that it had been nuich better 



L^i'lfiTo.] Faith, a Foot! a Hose! a Shoe! 279 

for such an imprudent and ridiculous bawler as this, to have 
been condemned to have cried oysters or brooms, than to dis- 
credit, after this unsanctified rate, his Profession and our 
Rehgion. 

It would be an endless thing. Sir, to count up to you all 
the follies, for a hundred years last past, that have been 
preached and printed of this kind. But yet I cannot omit 
that of the famous Divine in his time, who, advising the 
people in days of danger to run unto the LORD, tells 
them that " they cannot go to the LORD, much less run, 
without feet ; " that " there be therefore two feet to run 
to the LORD, Faith and Prayer." 

"It is plain that Faith is a foot, for, 'by Faith we 
stand,' 2 Cor. i. 24; therefore by Faith, we must run 
to the LORD who is faithful. 

" The second is Prayer, a spiritual Leg to bear us 
thither. Now that Prayer is a spiritual Leg appears from 
several places in Scripture, as from that of Jonah speak- 
ing of coining, chap. ii. ver. 7, ' And my prayer came unto 
thy holy temple.' And likewise from that of the Apostle 
who says, Heb. iv. 16, 'Let us therefore go unto the 
throne of grace.' Both intimating that Prayer is a 
spiritual Leg : there being no coining or going to the 
LORD without the Leg of Prayer." 

He further adds, " Now that these feet may be able to 

bear us thither, we must put on the Hose [stuclangs] of 

Faith ; for the Apostle says, ' Our feet must be shod with 

the preparation of the Gospel of Peace.' " 

The truth of it is, the Author is somewhat obscure : for, 

at first, Faith was a Foot, and by-and-by it is a Hose, 

and at last it proves a Shoe! If he had pleased, he could 

have made it anything ! 

Neither can I let pass that of a later Author ; who telling 
us, " It is Goodness by which we must ascend to heaven," 
and that " Goodness is the Milky Way to Jupiter's Palace " ; 
could not rest there, but must tell us further, that "to 
strengthen us in our journey, we must not take morning 
milk, but some morning meditations : " fearing, I suppose, 
lest some people should mistake, and think to go to heaven 
by eating now and then a mess of morning milk, because the 
way was " milky." 



28o Ask, Are the Similitudes true ? [l-/^l''^,llt 

Neither ought that to be omitted, not long since printed 
upon those words of St. John, " These things write I unto 
you, that ye sin not." 

The Observation is that "it is the purpose of Scripture 
to drive men from sin. These Scriptures contain Doc- 
trines, Precepts, Promises, Threatenings, and Histories. 
Now," says he, " take these five smooth stones, and put 
them into the Scrip of the heart, and throw them with the 
Sling of faith, by the Hand of a strong resolution, against 
the Forehead of sin : and we shall see it, like Goliath, 
fall before us." 

But I shall not trouble you any further upon this subject : 
but, if you have a mind to hear any more of this stuff, I shall 
refer you to the learned and judicious Author of the Friendly 
Debates [i.e., Simon Patrick, afterwards Bishop of Ely, who 
wrote A Friendly Debate between a Conformist and a Noncon- 
formist, in two parts, 1669; : who, particularly, has at large 
discovered the intolerable fooleries of this way of talking. 

I shall only add thus much, that such as go about to fetch 
blood into their pale and lean discourses, by the help of their 
brisk and sparkling similitudes, ought well to consider, 
Whether their similitudes be true ? 

I am confident, Sir, }ou have heard it, many and many a 
time, or, if need be, I can shew you it in a book, that when 
the preacher happens to talk how that the things here below 
will not satisfy the mind of man ; then comes in, " the round 
world which cannot fill the triangular heart of man ! " 
whereas every butcher knows that the heart is no more tri- 
angular than an ordinary pear, or a child's top. But because 
triani^idar is a hard word, and perhaps a jest ! therefore 
people have stolen it one from another, these two or three 
hundred years ; and, for aught I know, much longer I for I 
cannot direct to the first inventor of the fancy. 

In like manner, they are to consider. What things, either 
in the heavens or belonging to the earth, have been found out, 
by experience, to contradict what has been formerly allowed 
of? 

Thus, because some ancient astronomers had observed that 
both the distances as well as the revolutions of the planets 
were in some proportion or harmony one to another : there- 
fore people that abounded with more imagination than skill, 



J Eaclr.r,l.-| Ri^GING CllLMES O^M^\UTICULAR WORDS. 28 I 

presently fancied the Moon, Mercuiy, and Venus to be a kind 
of violins or trebles to Jupiter or Saturn ; that the Sun and 
Mars supplied the room of tenors, and the Priinum Mobile 
running Division all the tune. So that one could scarce heai 
a sermon, but they must give you a touch of "the Harmony 
of the Spheres." 

Thus, Sir, you shall have them take that of St. Paul, about 
*' faith, hope, and charity." And instead of a sober instruct- 
ing of the people in those eminent and excellent graces, they 
shall only ring you over a few changes upon the three words; 
crying, " Faith ! Hope ! and Charity ! " " Hope ! Faith ! and 
Charity!" and soon: and when they have done their peal, 
they shall tell you that "this is much better than the 
Harmony of the Spheres ! " 

At other times, I have heard a long chiming only between 
two words ; as suppose Divinity and Philosophy, or Revela- ^ 
tion and Reason. Setting forth with Revelation first. 
" Revelation is a Lady; Reason, an Handmaid! Revelation 
is the Esquire ; Reason, the Page ! Revelation is the Sun ; 
Reason, but the Moon ! Revelation is Manna ; Reason is but 
an acorn ! Revelation, a wedge of gold ; Reason, a small 
piece of silver ! " 

Then, by and by, Reason gets it, and leads it away, / 
" Reason indeed is very good, but Revelation is much better ! ' 
Reason is a Councillor, but Revelation is the Lawgiver! 
Reason is a candle, but Revelation is the snuffer ! " 

Certainly, those people are possessed with a very great 
degree of dulness, who living under the means of such en- 
lightening preaching, should not be mightily settled in the 
right notion and true bounds of Faith and Reason. 

No less ably, methought, was the difference between the 
Old Covenant and the New, lately determined. " The Old 
Covenant was of Works ; the New Covenant, of Faith. The 
Old Covenant was by Moses; The New, by Christ. The 
Old was heretofore; the New, afterwards. The Old was 
first; the New was second. Old things are passed away: 
behold, all things are become new." And so the business 
was very fundamentally done. 

I shall say no more upon this subject, but this one thing, 
which relates to what was said a little before. He that has 
got a set of similitudes calculated according to the old 



28 2 The usual Preaching — Tjie Preface. [^Aug^'^ieyo: 

philosophy, and Ptolemy's system of the world, must burn 
his commonplace book, and go a-gleaning for new ones ; it 
being, nowadays, much more gentle and warrantable to take 
a similitude from the Man in the Moon than from s,olid orbs : 
for though few people do absolutely believe that there is 
any such Eminent Person there ; yet the thing is possible, 
whereas the other is not. 



I have now done, Sir, with that imprudent way of speaking 
by Metaphor and Simile. There are many other things 
commonly spoken out of the pulpit, that are much to the 
disadvantage and discredit of the Clergy; that ought also to 
be briefly hinted. And that I may the better light upon 
them, I shall observe their common method of Preaching, 

[1.] Before the text be divided, a Preface is to be made. 

And it is a great chance if, first of all, the Minister does 
not make his text to be like something or other. 

For example. One, he tells you, "And now, methinks, 
my Text, like an ingenious [clever] Picture, looks upon all 
here present : in which, both nobles and people, may behold 
their sin and danger represented." This was a text out of 
Hosea. Now, had it been out of any other place of the Bible; 
the gentleman was sufficiently resolved to make it like " an 
ingenious Picture." 

Another taking, perhaps, the very same words, says, *' I 
might compare my Text to the mountains of Bether, where 
the LORD disports Himself like a young hart or a pleasant 
roe among the spices." 

Another man's Text is " like the rod of Moses, to divide 
the waves of sorrow"; or "like the mantle of Elijah, to 
restrain the swelling floods of grief." 

Another gets to his Text thus, "As Solomon went up six 
steps to come to the great Throne of Ivory, so must I ascend 
six degrees to come to the high top-meaning of my Text." 

Another thus, " As Deborah arose, and went with Barak 
to Kadesh ; so, if you will go with him, and call in the third 
verse of the chapter, he will shew vou the meaning of his 
Text." 

Another, he fancies his Text to be extraordinarily like to 
"an orchard of pomegranates;" or like "St. Matthew 



s.S'I'SJ Usual rREACiiKNG — Dividing the Text. 283 

sitting at the receipt of custom ; " or like " the dove that 
Noah sent out of the Ark." 

I believe there are above forty places of Scripture, that 
have been " like Rachel and Leah " : and there is one in 
Genesis, as I well remember, that is "like a pair of compasses 
stradling." And, if I be not much mistaken, there is one, 
somewhere else, that is " like a man going to Jericho." 

Now, Sir, having thus made the way to the Text as smooth 
and plain as anything, with a Preface, perhaps from Adam, 
though his business lie at the other end of the Bible : in the 
next place ; [2] he comes to divide the Text. 

Hie labor, hoc opus 
Per varios casus, per tot discrimina rerum, 
Silvestrem tcmii. 

Now, come off the gloves ! and the hands being well chafed 
[rubbed together] ; he shrinks up his shoulders, and stretches 
forth himself as if he were going to cleave a bullock's head, 
or rive the body of an oak ! 

But we must observe, that there is a great difference of 
Texts. For all Texts come not asunder alike ! For some- 
times the words naturally /a// asunder! sometimes they drop 
asunder ! sometimes they melt ! sometimes they untwist I and 
there be some words so willing to be parted that they divide 
themselves ! to the great ease and rejoicing of the Minister. 

But if they will not easily come to pieces, then he falls to 
hacking and hewing! as if he would make all fly into shivers ! 
The truth of it is, I have known, now and then, some knotty 
Texts, that have been divided seven or eight times over! 
before they could make them split handsomely, according to 
their mind. 

But then comes the Joy of Joys ! when the Parts jingle ! 
or begin with the same Letter ! and especially if in Latin. 

O how it tickled the Divider ! when he got his Text into 
those two excellent branches, Accusatio vera: Comminatio 
sevcra : " A Charge full of Verity : A Discharge of Severity." 
And, I will warrant you ! that did not please a little, viz., 
•' there are in the words, duplex miraculum; Miraciduui in modo 
and Miraciduui in nodo." 

But the luckiest I have met withal, both for Wit and 



284 Text like a spiritual Comtass. y/; 



achard, 
ug. 1670. 



Keeping of the Letter, is upon these words of St, Matthew xii. 
43, 44, 45 : " When the unclean spirit is gone out of a man, 
he walketh through dry places, seeking rest and finding none. 
Then he saith I will return," &c. 

In which words, all these strange things were found out. 
First, there was a Captain and a Castle. (Do 3 ou see. Sir, the 
same letter!) Then, there was an ingress, an egress; and a 
regress or reingress. Then, there wdi^unroosting ?iX\dL unresting. 
Then, there were number and name, manner and measure, 
iruiible and trial, resolution and revolution, assaults and as- 
sassination, voidness and vacuity. This was done at the same 
time, by the same man ! But, to confess the truth of it ! it 
was a good long Text ; and so, he had the greater advantage. 

But for a short Text, that, certainly, was the greatest 
break that ever was ! which w-as occasioned from those words 
of St. Luke xxiii. 28, " Weep not for me, weep for your- 
selves ! " or as some read it, " but weep for yourselves ! " 

It is a plain case. Sir ! Here aje but eight words ; and the 
business was cunningly ordered, that there sprang out eight 
Parts. " Here are," says the Doctor, " eight Words, and 
eight Parts ! 

1. Weep not ! 

2. But weep ! 

3. Weep not, but weep ! 

4. Weep for me ! 

5. For yourselves ! 

6. For me, for yourselves ! 

7. \\'eep not for me ! 

8. But weep for yourselves ! 

That is to say. North, North-and- by-East, North-North- 
East, North-East and by North, North-East, North-East 
and by East, East-North-East, East and by North, East." 

Now, it seems not very easy to determine, who has obliged 
the world most ; he that found out the Compass, or he that 
divided the fore-mentioned Text ? I)Ut I suppose the cracks 
[claps] will go generally upon the Doctor's side ! by reason 
what he did, was done by undoubted Art and absolute 
industry : but as for the other, the common report is that it 
was found out by mere foolish fortune. Well, let it go how 
It will ! questionless, they will be both famous in their way, 
and honourably mentioned to posterity. 



J^^;',^';^^^^;] Usual rREACiiiNG — Observa tions deduced. 285 

Neither ought he to be altogether shghted, who taking that 
oi Genesis xlviii. 2 for his text; viz., "And one told Jacob, 
and said, ' Behold, thy son Joseph cometh unto thee !'" pre- 
sently perceived, and made it out to his people, that his Text 
was " a spiritual Dial." 

"For," says he, "here be in my Text, twelve words, 
which do plainly represent the twelve hours. And one 
told Jacob, and said, 'Thy son Joseph cometh unto thceT 
And here is, besides. Behold, which is the Hand of the 
Dial, that turns and points at every word of the Text. 
And one told Jacob, and said, ' Behold, thy son Joseph 
cometh unto thee /' For it is not said, Behold Jacob ! 
or Behold Joseph ! but it is, And one told Jacob, and 
said. Behold, thy son Joseph cometh unto thee. That it 
is say, Behold And, Behold one. Behold told, Behold 
Jacob. Again Behold and, Behold said, and also Behold 
Behold, &c. Which is the reason that this word Behold 
is placed in the middle of the other twelve words, 
indifferently pointing to each word. 

" Now, as it needs must be One of the Clock before 
it can be Two or Three; so I shall handle this word 
And, the first word of the Text, before I meddle with the 
following. 

" And one told Jacob. The word A nd is but a particle, 
and a small one : but small things are not to be des- 
pised. St. Matthew xviii. 10, Take heed that you despise 
not one of these little ones. For this And is as the tacks 
and loops amongst the curtains of the Tabernacle. The 
tacks put into the loops did couple the curtains of the 
Tent and sew the Tent together: so this particle And 
being put into the loops of the words immediately before 
the Text, does couple the Text to the foregoing verse, 
and sews them close together." 
I shall not trouble you. Sir, with the rest : being much 
after this witty rate, and to as much purpose. 

But we will go on, if you please. Sir ! to [3] the cunning 
Observations, Doctrines, and Inferences that are commonly 
made and raised from places of Scripture. 

One takes that for his Text, P.hiI n Ixviii. 3, But let the 



286 Quotations fro:\i Flames &' Discovertes. \\l^ 



. Knchard. 
. 1670. 



righteous he glad. From whence, he raises this doctrine, 
that " there is a Spirit of Singularity in the Saints of GOD : 
but let the righteous — " a doctrine, I will warrant him ! of his 
own raising; it being not very easy for anybody to prevent him ! 
Another, he takes that of Isaiah xli. 14, 15, Fear not, 
thou worm Jacob! &c. . . . thou shalt thresh the mountains. 
Whence he observes that " the worm Jacob was a threshing 
worm ! " 

Another, that of Genesis xliv. i. And he commanded the 

Steward of the house, saying, Fill the men's sacks with food, as 

much as they can carry : and makes this note from the words. 

That " great sacks and many sacks will hold more than 

few sacks and little ones. For look," says he, "how 

they came prepared with sacks and beasts, so they were 

sent back with corn ! The greater, and the more sacks 

they had prepared, the more corn they carry away ! if 

they had prepared but small sacks, and a few ; they had 

carried away the less ! " 

Verily, and indeed extraordinarily true ! 

Another, he falls upon that of Isaiah Iviii, 5, Is it such a 
fast that I have chosen ? A day for a man to afflict his soul ? 
Is it to boin) down his head like a bulrush ? The Observation is 
that ** Repentance for an hour, or a day, is not worth a 
bulrush ! " And, there, I think, he hit the business ! 



But of these, Sir, I can shew you a whole book full, in a 
treatise called Flames and Discoveries, consisting of very 
notable and extraordinary things which the inquisitive Author 
had privately observed and discovered, upon reading the 
Evangelists ; as for example : 

Upon reading that of St. John, chapter ii. verse 15, 
And when he had made a scourge of small cords, he drove 
them all out of the Temple ; this prying Divine makes 
these discoveries. " I discover," says he, " in the first 
place, that in the Church or Temple, a scourge may be 
made, And when he had made a scourge. Secondly, that 
it may be made use on, he drove them all out of the Temple.'" 
And it was a great chance that he had not discovered a 
third thing ; and that is, that the scourge was made, 
before it was made use of. 



I'a^SS-] SlXII discoveries but riTIFUL GUESSES. 287 

Upon Mnftheiv iv. 25, And there followed him great 
multitudes of people from Galilee, " I discover," says he, 
"when jEbL'S prevails with us, we shall soon leave our 
Galilees ! I discover also," says he, " a great miracle, 
viz.: that the way after Jesus being straight, that such 
a multitude should follow him." 

Matthevj v. i. And seeing the multitude, he went up into a, 
mountain. Upon this, he discovers several very remark- 
able things. First, he discovers that " Christ went 
from the midtitude." Secondly, that " it is safe to take 
warning at our eyes, for seeing the multitude, he went npy 
Thirdly, " it is not fit to be always upon the plains and 
flats with the multitude : but, if we be risen with Christ, 
to seek those things that are above. 

He discovers also very strange things, from the latter 
part of the fore-mentioned verse. And when he was set, 
his disciples came unto him. 1. Christ is not always 
in motion, And when he was set. 2. He walks not on 
the mountain, but sits. And when he was set. From 
whence also, in the third place, he advises people, that 
" when they are teaching they should not move too 
much, for that is to be carried to and fro with every 
wind of doctrine." Now, certainly, never was this place 
of Scripture more seasonably brought in. 

Now, Sir, if you be for a very short and witty dis- 
covery, let it be upon that of St. Matthew vi. 27. Which 
of you, by taking thought, can add one cubit unto his stature ? 
The discovery is this, that "whilst the disciples were 
taking thought for a cubit ; Christ takes them down a 
cubit lower ! " 

Notable also are two discoveries made upon St. 
Matthew \m. i. i. That "Christ went down, as well 
as went up. When he came down from the mountain.'' 
2. That "the multitude did not go 'hail fellow well met ! ' 
with him, nor before him; iov great multitudes followed Jiim." 
I love, with all my heart, when people can prove what 
they say. For there be many that wall talk of their Dis- 
coveries and spiritual Observations ; and when all comes 
to all, they are nothing but pitiful guesses and slender con- 
jectures. 

In like manner, that was no contemptible discovery 



2 88 Searching for out-of-tiie way texts. [L'ug'i'Xo' 

that was made upon St. Matthew viii. 19. And a certain 
Scribe came and said, " Master, I will follow thee where- 
soever thou goest." " A thou shall he followed more than 
a that. I will foil oiej thee wheresoever thou goest. 

And, in my opinion, that was not altogether amiss, 
upon St. Matthew xi. 2. Now when John had heard in 
prison the works of Christ, he sent two of his disciples. 
'J'he discovery is this. That " it is not good sending 
single to Christ, he sent two of his disciples.'" 

Some also, possibly may not dislike that upon St. Luke 
xii. 35. Lctyour loins he girded. " I discover," says he, 
*' there must be a holy girding and trussing up for heaven." 
But I shall end all, with that very politic one that 
he makes upon St. Matthew xii. 47. Then said one unto 
him ^^ Behold thy mother and thy brethren stand without, 
desiring to speak with thee.'' But he answered and said, 
" Who is my mother ? andivho are my bretJiren ? " " I dis- 
cover now," says he, "that Jesus is upon business." 
Doubtless, this was one of the greatest Discoverers of 
Hidden Mysteries, and one of the most Pryers into Spiritual 
Secrets that ever the world was owner of. It was very well 
that he happened upon the godly calling, and no secular 
employment : or else, in good truth ! down had they all 
gone ! Turk ! Pope ! and Emperor ! for he would have dis- 
covered them, one way or another, every man ! 



Not much unlike to these wonderful Discoverers, are they 
v\'ho, choosing to preach on some Point in Divinity, shall 
purposely avoid all such plain Texts as might give them very 
just occasion to discourse upon their intended subject, and 
shall pitch upon some other places of Scripture, which no 
creature in the world but themselves, did ever imagine that 
which theyoffertobetherein designed. My meaning, Sir,is this. 

Suppose you have a mind to make a sermon concerning 
Episcopacy, as in the late times [the Couunonivealth] there 
were several occasions for it, you must, by no means, take 
any place of Scripture that proves or favours that kind of 
Ecclesiastical Government ! for then the plot will be dis- 
covered ; and the people will say to themselves, " We know 
where to find you ! You intend to preach about Episcopacy ! " 



J Eachnr<l.-| p^y^ ARGUMENT FOR THE RESTORATION. 289 

8 Aug. 1670. J -^ 

But you must take Acts, chapter xvi. verse 30, Sirs, what 
must I do to be saved ? An absolute place for Episcopacy ! 
that all former Divines had idly overlooked ! For Sirs being 
in the Greek Kvptot, which is to say, in true and strict 
translation, Lords, what is more plain than, that of old, 
Episcopacy was not only the acknowledged Government ; 
but that Bishops were formerly Peers of the Realm, and so 
ought to sit in the House of Lords ! 

Or, suppose that you have a mind to commend to your 
people. Kingly Government : you must not take any place 
that is plainly to the purpose ! but that of the Evangelist, 
Seek first the Kingdom of GOD ! From which words, the 
doctrine will plainly be, that Monarchy or Kingly Govern- 
ment is most according to the mind of GOD. For it is not 
said, "seek the Parliament of GOD!" "the Army of GOD !" 
or " the Committee of Safety of GOD ! " but it is " seek the 
Kingdom of GOD!" And who could expect less? Im- 
mediately after this [i.e., this argument], the King came in, and 
the Bishops were restored [1660 a.d.]. 

Again, Sir (because I would willingly be understood), 
suppose you design to preach about Election and Reproba- 
tion. As for the eighth chapter to the Romans, that is too 
well known ! but there is a little private place in the Psalms 
that will do the business as well ! Psalm xc. 19, In the 
viidtitude of my thoughts within me, thy comforts delight my soul. 

The doctrine, which naturally flows from the words, will 
be that amongst the midtitude of thoughts, there is a great 
thought of Election and Reprobation ; and then, away with 
the Point ! according as the preacher is inclined. 

Or suppose, lastly, that you were not fully satisfied that 
Pluralities were lawful or convenient. May I be so bold, 
Sir ? I pray, what Text would you choose to preach up against 
non-residents ? Certainly, nothing ever was better picked 
than that of St. Matthew i. 2. Abraham begat Isaac. A 
clear place against non-residents ! for " had Abraham not 
resided, but had discontinued from Sarah his wife, he could 
never have begotten Isaac ! " 

But it is high time, Sir, to make an end of their preaching, 
lest you be as much tired with the repetition of it, as the 
people were little benefited when they heard it. 

£a'g. Gar. VII. ig 



2 90 Usual preaching. Misuse or Concordance. \\x^'^'^f, 



hard. 
670. 



I shall only mind you, Sir, of one thinj^ more ; and that is 
[4j the ridiculous, senseless, and unintended use which many 
of them make of Concordances. 

I shall give you but one instance of it, although I could 
furnish you with a hundred printed ones. 

The Text, Sir, is this, Galatians vi. 15, For in Christ 
Jesus neither Circumcision nor Uncircumcision avail anything; 
hut a new creature. Now, all the world knows the meaning 
of this to be, that, let a man be of what nation he will, Jew 
or Gentile, if he amends his life, and walks according to the 
Gospel, he shall be accepted with GOD. 

But this is not the way that pleases them ! They must 
bring into the sermon, to no purpose at all ! a vast heap of 
places of Scripture, which the Concordance will furnish them 
with, where the word new is mentioned. 

And the Observation must be that "GOD is for new 
things. GOD is for a new creature. St. John xix. 41, Noio 
in the place where he was crucified, there was a garden ; and 
171 the garden a new sepulchre, wherein was never man yet 
laid. There they laid Jesus. And again St. Mark xvi. 
17. Christ tells his disciples that they that are true 
believers, shall cast out devils, and speak with new 
tongues. And likewise, the prophet teaches us, Isaiah 
xlii. 10, Sing unto the LORD a new song, and his praise to 
the end of the earth. 

" Whence it is plain that Christ is not for old things. 
He is not for an old sepulchre. He is not for old tongues. 
He is not for an old song. He is not for an old creature. 
Christ is for a new creature ! Circumcision and Uncircum- 
cision availeth nothing, but a new creature. And what do we 
read concerning Samson ? Judges xv. 15. Is it not that 
he slew a thousand of the Philistines with one nezo jaw- 
bone ? An old one might have killed its tens, its twenties, 
its hundreds ! but it must be a neic jawbone that is able 
to kill a thousand ! CiOD is for the new creature ! 

" But may not some say, ' Is GOD altogether for new 
things ? ' How comes it about then, that the prophet 
says, Isaiah i. 13, 14, Bring no more vain oblations ! &c. 
Your new Moons, and your appointed Feasts, my soul hateth ! 
And again, what means that, Deuteronomy xxxii. 17, 19, 
They sacrificed unto devils, and to nciv gods, whom they knew 



s^Aul^'leJ"] The Poverty of some of the clergy. 291 

not, to new gods that came newly up. . . . And when 
the LORD saw it, He abhorred them! To which I 
answer, that GOD indeed is not for new moons, nor for 
new gods ; but, excepting moons and gods, He is for the 
new creature.'^ 

It is possible, Sir, that somebody besides 3-ourself, may be 
so vain as to read this Letter : and they may perhaps tell 
you, that there be no such silly and useless people as I have \ V- 
described. And if there be, there be not above two or three ' " 
in a country [county]. Or should there be, it is no such com- 
plaining matter : seeing that the same happens in other 
professions, in Law and Physic : in both [of] which, there be 
many a contemptible creature. 

Such therefore as these, may be pleased to know that, if 
there had been need, I could have told them, either the book 
(and very page almost) of all that has been spoken about 
Preaching, or else the When and Where, and the Person that 
preached it. 

As to the second, viz. : that the Clergy are all mightily 
furnished with Learning and Prudence ; except ten, twenty, 
or so ; I shall not say anything myself, because a very great 
Scholar of our nation shall speak for me : who tells us that 
*' such Preaching as is usual, is a hindrance of Salvation 
rather than the means to it." And what he intends by 
" usual," I shall not here go about to explain. 

And as to the last, I shall also, in short, answer. That if the 
Advancement of true Religion and the eternal Salvation of a 
Man were no more considerable than the health of his body 
and the security of his estate ; we need not be more solicitous 
about the Learning and Prudence of the Clergy, than of the 
Lawyers and Physicians. But we believing it to be otherwise, 
surely, we ought to be more concerned for the reputation 
and success of the one than of the other. 



Come now. Sir, to the Second Part that was 
designed, viz. : the Poverty of some of the Clergy. 
By whose mean condition, their Sacred Profession 
is much disparaged, and their Doctrine undervalued. 
What large provisions, of old, GOD was pleased to make 




292 Priestly provision under the Old Law. [Ia^us^icS 

for the Priesthood, and upon what reasons, is easily seen to 
any one that but looks into the Bible. The Levites, it is true, 
were left out, in the Division of the Inheritance ; not to their 
loss, but to their great temporal advantage. For whereas, 
had they been common sharers with the rest, a Twelfth part 
only would have been their just allowance ; GOD was 
pleased to settle upon them, a Tenth, and that without any 
trouble or charge of tillage : which made their portion much 
more considerable than the rest. 

And as this provision was very bountiful, so the reasons, 
no question ! were very Divine and substantial : which seem 
chiefly to be these two. 

First, that the Priesthood might be altogether at leisure for 
the service of GOD : and that they of that Holy Order 
might not be distracted with the cares of the world ; 
and interrupted by every neighbour's horse or cow that 
breaks their hedges or shackles [or hobbled, feeds among] 
their corn. But that living a kind of spiritual life, and 
being removed a little from all worldly affairs ; they 
might always be fit to receive holy inspirations, and 
always ready to search out the Mind of GOD, and to 
advise and direct the people therein. 

Not as if this Divine exemption of them from the 
common troubles and cares of this life was intended as 
an opportunity of luxury and laziness : for certainly, 
there is a labour besides digging ! and there is a true 
carefulness without following the plough, and looking 
after their cattle ! 

And such was the employment of those holy men of 
old. Their care and business was to please GOD, and 
to charge themselves with the welfare of all His people : 
which thing, he that does it with a good and satisfied 
conscience, I will assure he has a task upon him much 
beyond them that have for their care, their hundreds of 
oxen and five hundreds of sheep. 
Another reason that this large allowance was made to the 
Priests, was that they might be enabled to relieve the 
poor, to entertain strangers, and thereby to encourage 
people in the ways of godliness. For they being, in a 
peculiar manner, the servants of GOD, GOD was 
pleased to entrust in their hands, a portion more than 



8A^g^i67o'] ^^^^ MEDITATIONS OF A CoUNTRY PaRSON. 293 

ordinary of the good things of the land, as the safest 
Storehouse and Treasury for such as were in need. 



That, in all Ages therefore, there should be a continued 
tolerable maintenance for the Clergy : the same reasons, as 
well as many others, make us think to be very necessary. 
Unless they will count money and victuals to be only Types 
and Shadows ! and so, to cease with the Ceremonial Law. 

For where the Minister is pinched as to the tolerable con- 
veniences of this life, the chief of his care and time must be 
spent, not in an impertinent 'trifling] considering what Text 
of Scripture will be most useful for his parish ; what in- 
structions most seasonable ; and what authors, best to be 
consulted : but the chief of his thoughts and his main busi- 
ness must be. How to live that week ? Where he shall have 
bread for his family ? Whose sow has lately pigged ? 
Whence will come the next rejoicing goose, or the next 
cheerful basket of apples ? how far to Lammas, or [Easter] 
Offerings ? When shall we have another christening and 
cakes ? and Who is likely to marry, or die ? 

These are very seasonable considerations, and worthy of a 
man's thoughts. For a family cannot be maintained by 
texts and contexts! and a child that lies crying in the 
cradle, will not be satisfied without a little milk, and perhaps 
sugar ; though there be a small German System [of Divinity] 
in the house ! 

But suppose he does get into a little hole over the oven, 
with a lock to it, called his Study, towards the latter end 
of the week : for you must know, Sir, there are very few 
Texts of Scripture that can be divided, at soonest, before 
Friday night ; and some there be, that will never be divided 
but upon Sunday morning, and that not very early, but 
either a little before they go, or in the going, to church. I 
say, suppose the Gentleman gets thus into his Study, one 
may very nearly guess what is his first thought, when he 
comes there— viz., that the last kilderkin of drink is nearly 
departed ! that he has but one poor single groat in the house, 
and there is Judgement and Execution ready to come out 
against it, for milk and eggs ! 

Now, Sir, can any man think, that one thus racked and 



2 94 Usual library of a Country Parson. yXug^'i'S 

tortured, can be seriously intent, half an hour, to contrive 
anything that might be of real advantage to his people ? 

Besides, perhaps, that week, he has met with some dismal 
crosses and most undoing misfortunes. 

There was a scurvy-conditioned mole, that broke into his 
pasture, and ploughed up the best part of his glebe. And, a 
little after that, came a couple of spiteful ill-favoured crows, 
and trampled down the little remaining grass. Another 
day, having but four chickens, sweep comes the kite ! and 
carries away the fattest and hopefullest of the brood. Then, 
after all this, came the jackdaws and starlings (idle birds that 
they are!), and they scattered and carried away from his 
thin thatched house, forty or fifty of the best straws. And, 
to make him completely unhappy, after all these afflictions, 
another day, that he had a pair of breeches on, coming over 
a perverse stile, he suffered very much, in carelessly lifting 
over his leg. 

Now, what parish can be so inconsiderate and unreason- 
able as to look for anything from one, whose fancy is thus 
checked, and whose understanding is thus ruffled and dis- 
ordered ? They may as soon expect comfort and consola- 
tion from him that lies racked with the gout and the stone, 
as from a Divine thus broken and shattered in his fortunes! 

But we will grant that he meets not with any of these 
such frightful disasters ; but that he goes into his study with 
a mind as calm as the evening. For all that ; upon Sunday, 
we must be content with what GOD shall please to send us! 
For as for books, he is, for want of money, so moderately 
furnished, that except it be a small Geneva Bible (so small, 
as it will not be desired to lie open of itself), together with a 
certain Concordance thereunto belonging ; as also a Latin 
book for all kind of Latin sentences, called Polyanthcca; with 
some Exposition upon the Catechism, a portion of which, is to 
be got by heart, and to be put off for his own ; and perhaps 
Mr. (JosephJ Caryl upon [JoHxj Pineda [these two authors 
wrote vast Commentaries on the Book of Job] ; Mr. [John] 
DoD upon the Commandments, Mr. [Samuel] Clarke's Lives 
of famous men, both in Church and State (such as Mr. 
Carter of Norwich, that uses to eat such abundance of 
pudding) : besides, I say, these, there is scarcely anything 
to be found, but a budget of old stitched sermons hung up 



J F.achr,nl.-] ARGUMENT FOR KEEriNG THE ClERGV TOOR. 295 

O AUi^. 1070. _J 

behind the door, with a few broken ^nrths, two or three yards 
of whipcord ; and, perhaps, a saw and a hammer, to prevent 
dilapidations. 

Now, what may not a Divine do, though but of ordinary 
parts and unhappy education, with such learned helps and 
assistances as these ? No vice, surely, durst stand before 
him ! no heresy, affront him ! 

And furthermore. Sir, it is to be considered, that he that 
is but thus meanly provided for : it is not his only infelicity 
that he has neither time, mind, nor books to improve himself 
for the inward benefit and satisfaction of his people ; but also 
that he is not capable of doing that outward good amongst 
the needy, which is a great ornament to that holy Profession, 
and a considerable advantage towards the having the doctrine 
believed and practised in a degenerate world. 

And that which augments the misery ; whether he be able or 
not, it is expected from him, if there comes a Brief io town, 
for the Minister to cast in his mite will not satisfy ! unless he 
can create sixpence or a shilling to put into the box, for a 
stale [Inve , to decoy in the rest of the parish. Nay, he that 
hath but ^Tao or £^0 [=£60 to £go now] per annum, if he bids 
not up as high as the best in the parish in all acts of charity, 
he is counted carnal and earthly-minded ; only because he 
durst not coin ! and cannot work miraclesl 

And let there come ever so many beggars, half of these, 
I will secure you! shall presently inquire for the Minister's 
house. " For GOD," say they, " certainly dwells there, and 
has laid up for us, sufficient relief ! " 

I know many of the Laity are usually so extremely tender 
of the spiritual welfare of the Clergy, that they are apt to 
wish them but very small temporal goods, lest their inward 
state should be in danger ! A thing, they need not much fear, 
since that effectual humiliation by Henry VIII. " For," 
say they, "the great tithes, large glebes, good victuals and 
warm clothes do but puff up the Priest ! making him fat, 
foggy, and useless ! and fill him with pride, vainglory, and 
all kind of inward wickedness and pernicious corruption ! 
We see this plain," say they, "in the Whore of Babylon 
[Rovian Catholic Church] ! To what a degree of luxury and 
intemperance, besides a great deal of false doctrine, have 



296 5'''- OK 6s. FOR A S U N D A y's DUTY, [^•vug^'lej. 

riches and honour raised up that strumpet ! How does she 
strut it ! and swagger it over all the world ! terrifying Princes, 
and despising Kings and Emperors ! 

" The Clergy, if ever we would expect any edification from 
them, ought to be dieted and kept low ! to be meek and 
humble, quiet, and stand in need of a pot of milk from their 
next neighbour I and always be very loth to ask for their 
very right, for fear of making any disturbance in the parish, 
or seeming to understand or have any respect for this vile 
and outward world ! 

" Under the Law, indeed, in those old times of Darkness 
and Eating, the Priests had their first and second dishes, 
their milk and honey, their Manna and quails, also their 
outward and inward vestments : but now, under the Gospel, 
and in times of Light and Fasting, a much more sparing diet 
is fitter, and a single coat (though it be never so ancient and 
thin) is fully sufficient ! " 

" We must look," say they, " if we would be the better for 
them, for a hardy and labouring Clergy, that is mortified to 
[the possession of] a horse and all such pampering vanities ! 
and that can foot it five or six miles in the dirt, and preach 
till starlight, for as many [5 or 6] shillings ! as also a sober 
and temperate Clergy, that will not eat so much as the 
Laity, but that the least pig, the least sheaf, and the least of 
everything, may satisfy their Spiritualship ! And besides, a 
money-renouncing Clergy, that can abstain from seeing a 
penny, a month together ! unless it be when the Collectors 
and Visitationers come. These are all Gospel dispensations! 
and great instances of patience, contentedness, and resigna- 
tion of affections [in respect] to all the emptinesses and 
fooleries of this life ! " 

But cannot a Clergyman choose rather to lie upon feathers 
than a hurdle ; but he must be idle, soft, and effeminate I 
May he not desire wholesome food and fresh drink ; unless he 
be a cheat, a hypocrite, and an impostor ! And must he 
needs be void of all grace, though he has a shilling in his 
purse, after the rates be crossed [off J ! and full of pride and 
vanity though his house stands not upon crutches ; and 
though his chimney is to be seen a foot above the thatch ! 

O, how prettily and temperately may half a score of children 
be maintained with almost £zo [=£Go iioiv] per aniiinn\ 



8Aut''l67o] Financial difficulties of the Clergy, 297 

What a handsome shift, a poor ingenious and frugal Divine 
will make, to take it by turns, and wear a cassock [a long 
cloak] one year, and a pair of breeches another ! What a 
becoming thing is it for him that serves at the Altar, to fill 
the dung cart in dry weather, and to heat the oven and pull 
[strip] hemp in wet ! And what a pleasant thing is it, to see 
the Man of GOD fetching up his single melancholy cow from 
a small rib [strip] of land that is scarcely to be found without 
a guide ! or to be seated upon a soft and well grinded pouch 
[bag] of meal ! or to be planted upon a pannier, with a pair 
of geese or turkeys boblDing out their heads from under his 
canonical coat ! as you cannot but remember the man, Sir, 
that was thus accomplished. Or to find him raving about 
the yards or keeping his chamber close, because the duck 
lately miscarried of an egg, or that the never-failing hen has 
unhappily forsaken her wonted nest ! 

And now, shall we think that such employments as these, 
can, any way, consist with due reverence, or tolerable respect 
from a parish ? 

And he speaks altogether at a venture that says that "this 
is false, or, at least it need not be so ; notwithstanding the 
mean condition of some of the Clergy." For let any one make 
it out to me, which way is it possible that a man shall be 
able to maintain perhaps eight or ten in his family, with ^20 
or ^^30 per annum, without a intolerable dependence upon 
his parish ; and without committing himself to such vileness 
as will, in all likelihood, render him contemptible to his people. 

Now where the income is so pitifully small (which, I will 
assure you, is the portion of hundreds of the Clergy of this 
nation), which way shall he manage it for the subsistence of 
himself and his family ? 

If he keeps the glebe in his own hand (which he may 
easily do, almost in the hollow of it !) what increase can he 
expect from a couple of apple trees, a brood of ducklings, a 
hemp land, and as much pasture as is just able to summer a 
cow ? 

As for his tithes, he either rents them out to a layman ; 
who will be very unwilling to be his tenant, unless he may 
be sure to save by the bargain at least a third part : or else, 
he compounds for them; and then, as for his money, he 
shall have it when all the rest of the world be paid ! 



298 Should not the Clergy be kelt poor ? [g-'kug?'!'!;'". 

But if he thinks fit to take his dues in kind, he then 
either demands his true and utmost right ; and if so, it is a 
great hazard if he he not counted a caterpillar ! a muck 
worm ! a very earthly minded man ! and too much sighted 
into this lower world ! which was made, as many of the 
Laity think, altogether for themselves : or else, he must 
tamely commit himself to that little dose of the creature 
that shall be pleased to he proportioned out unto him ; 
choosing rather to starve in peace and quietness, than to 
gain his right by noise and disturbance. 

The best of all these wa}-s that a Clergyman shall think 
fit for his preferment, to be managed (where it is so small), 
are such as will undoubtedly make him either to be hated 
and rc\ iled, or else pitifully poor and disesteemed. 



But has it not gone very hard, in all Ages with the Men 
of GOD ? Was not our Lord and Master our great and high 
Priest? and was not his fare low, and his life full of trouble? 
And was not the condition of most of his disciples very 
mean ? Were not they notably pinched and severely treated 
after him ? And is it not the dut\' of every Christian to 
imitate such holy patterns ? but especially of the Clergy, 
who are to be shining lights and visible examples ; and 
therefore to be satisfied with a very little morsel, and to 
renounce ten times as much of the world as other people ? 

And is not patience better than the Great Tithes, and 
contentedness to be preferred before large fees and customs ? 
Is there any comparison between the expectation of a cringing 
bow or a low hat, and mortification to all such vanities and 
fopperies ; especial!}' with those who, in a peculiar manner, 
hope to receive their inheritance, and make their harvest in 
the next life ? 

This was well thought of indeed. l>ut for all that, if you 
please, Sir, we will consider a little, some of those remark- 
able Inconveniences that do, most undoubtedly, attend upon 
the Ministers being so meanly provided for. 

First of all, the holy Men of GOD or the Ministry in 
general, hereby, is disesteemed and rendered of small ac- 
count. For though they be called Men df GOD : yet when 
it is observed that GOD seems to take but little care of 



J Eachard.-] SnKlTUAL PEDDLING WITH SERMONS. 299 
8 Aug. 1670.J ^^ 

them, in making them tolerable provision for this life, or 
that men are suffered to take away that which GOD was 
pleased to provide for them ; the people are presently apt to 
think that they belong to GOD no more than ordinary folks, 
if so much. 

And although it is not to be questioned but that the 
Laying on of Hands is a most Divine institution : yet it is 
not all the Bishops' hands in the world, laid upon a man, if 
he be either notoriously ignorant or dismally poor, that can 
procure him any hearty and lasting respect. For though we 
find that some of the disciples of Christ that carried on and 
established the great designs of the Gospel, were persons of 
ordinary employments and education: yet we see little 
reason to think that miracles should be continued, to do 
that which natural endeavours, assisted by the Spirit of 
GOD, are able to perform. And if Christ were still upon 
earth 'to make bread for such as are his peculiar Servants 
and Declarers of his Mind and Doctrine ; the Laity, if they 
please, should eat up all the corn themselves, as well the 
tenth sheaf as the others : but seeing it is otherwise, and 
that that miraculous power was not left to the succeedmg 
Clergy ; for them to beg their bread, or depend for their 
subsistence upon the good pleasure and humour of their 
parish, is a thing that renders that Holy Office very much 
slighted and disregarded. 

That constitution therefore of our Church was a most 
prudent design, that says that all who are ordained shall be 
ordained to somewhat, not ordained at random, to preach m 
general to the whole world, as they travel up and down the 
road; but to this or that particular parish. And, no question, 
the reason was, to prevent spiritual peddling ; and gaddmg up 
and down the country with a bag of trifling and insignificant 
sermons, inquiring " Who will buy any doctrine ? " So that 
no more might be received into Holy Orders than the Church 
had provision for. . . 

But so very little is this regarded, that if a young Divinity 
Intender has but got a sermon of his own, or of his father's ; 
although he knows not where to get a meal's meat or one 
penny of money bvhis preaching: yet he gets a Qualification 
from some beneficed man or other, who, perhaps, is no more 
able to keep a curate than I am to keep ten iootboys ! and so 



joo The Papacy inspires awe, many ways. [g^Xug^'l 



Eachard. 

670. 



he is made a Preacher. And upon this account, I have 
known an ordinary Divine, whose living would but just keep 
himself and his family from melancholy and despair, shroud 
under his protection as many Curates as the best Nobleman 
in the land hath Chaplains [i.e., eight]. 

Now, many such as these, go into Orders against the sky 
falls! foreseeing no more likelihood of any preferment coming 
to them, than you or I do of being Secretaries of State. Now, 
so often as any such as these, for want of maintenance, are 
put to any unworthy and disgraceful shifts ; this reflects 
disparagement upon all that Order of holy men. 

And we must have a great care of comparing our small 
preferred Clergy with those but of the like fortune, in the 
Church of Rome : they having many arts and devices of 
gaining respect and reverence to their Office, which we count 
neither just nor warrantable. We design no more, than to 
be in a likely capacity of doing good, and not discrediting 
our religion, nor suffering the Gospel to be disesteemed : but 
their aim is clearly, not only by cheats, contrived tales, 
and feigned miracles, to get money in abundance ; but to be 
worshipped, and almost deified, is as little as they will content 
themselves withal. 

For how can it be, but that the people belonging to a 
Church, wherein the Supreme Governor is believed never to 
err (either purely by virtue of his own single wisdom, or by 
help of his inspiring Chair, or by the assistance of his little 
infallible Cardinals ; for it matters not, where the root of 
not being mistaken lies) : I say, how can it be, but that all 
that are believers of such extraordinary knowledge, must 
needs stand in most direful awe, not only of the aforesaid 
Supreme, but of all that adhere to him, or are in any ghostly 
authority under him ? 

And although it so happens that this same extraordinary 
knowing Person is pleased to trouble himself with a good 
large proportion of this vile and contemptible world : so that 
should he, now and then, upon some odd and cloudy day, 
count himself mortal, and be a little mistaken ; 3-et he has 
chanced to make such a comfortable provision for himself 
and his followers, that he must needs be sufficiently valued 
and honoured amongst all. But had he but just enough to 



J. Eachard.-] n OMAN CaTHOLIC PRIESTS NOT MARRIED. 3OI 

8 Aug. 1670. J -^ 

keep himself from catching cold and starving, so long as he 
is invested with such spiritual sovereignty and such a peculiar 
privilege of being infallible ; most certainly, without quarrel- 
ling, he takes the rode [?] of all mankind. 

And as for the most inferior priests of all, although they 
pretend not to such perfection of knowledge : yet there be 
many extraordinary things which they are believed to be able 
to do, which beget in people a most venerable respect towards 
them : such is, the power of " making GOD " in the Sacra- 
ment, a thing that must infallibly procure an infinite admira- 
tion of him that can do it, though he scarce knows the Ten 
Commandments, and has not a farthing to buy himself bread. 
And then, when " Christ is made," their giving but half of 
him to the Laity, is a thing also, if it be minded, that will 
very much help on the business, and make the people stand 
at a greater distance from the Clergy. I might instance, 
likewise, in their Auricular Confession, enjoining of Penance, 
forgiving sins, making of Saints, freeing people from Purga- 
tory, and many such useful tricks they have, and wonders 
they can do, to draw in the forward believing Laity into a 
most right worshipful opinion and honourable esteem of 

them. , r T- 1 J ^ 

And therefore, seeing our holy Church of England counts 
it not just, nor warrantable, thus to cheat the world by 
belying the Scriptures ; and by making use of such falsehood 
and stratagems to gain respect and reverence : it behoves us, 
certainly, to wish for, and endeavour, all such means as are 
useful and lawful for the obtaining of the same. 

I might here, I think, conveniently add that though many 
preferments amongst the Clergy of Rome may possibly be as 
small as some of ours in England ; yet are we to be put in 
mind of one more excellent contrivance of theirs : and that 
is, the denial of marriage to Priests, whereby they are freed 
from the expenses of a family, and a tram of young children, 
that, upon my word! will soon suck up the milk of a cow or 
two, and grind in pieces a few sheaves of corn. 1 he Church 
of England therefore thinking it not fit to oblige their Clergy 
to a single life (and I suppose are not likely to alter their 
opinion, unless they receive better reasons for it from Rome 
than have been as yet sent over) : he makes a comparison 
verv wide from the purpose, that goes about to try the livings 



302 Good clothes grace the Message, yxus'^^lei'. 

here in Rni^land b)^ those of the Church of Rome ; there 
being nothing more frequent in our Church than for a Clergy- 
man to have three or four children to get bread for, b\- that 
time, one, in theirs, shall be allowed to go into Holy Orders. 

There is still one thing remaining, which ought not to be 
forgotten (a thing that is sometimes urged, I know, by the 
Papist, for the single life of the Priests) that does also much 
lessen the esteem of our Ministry ; and that is the poor and 
contemptible employment that many children of the Clergy 
are forced upon, by reason of the meanness of their father's 
revenue. 

It has happened, I know, sometimes, that whereas it has 
pleased GOD to bestow upon the Clergyman a very sufficient 
income : yet such has been his carelessness as that he hath 
made but pitiful provision for his children : and, on the other 
side, notwithstanding all the good care and thoughtfulness of 
the father, it has happened, at other times, that the children, 
beyond the power of all advice, have seemed to be resolved 
for debauchery. 

But to see Clergymen's children condemned to the walking 
[holdin<^] of horses ! to wait upon a tapster ! or the like ; and 
thai only because their father was not able to allow them a 
more genteel education : these are such employments that 
cannot but bring great disgrace and dishonour upon the 
Clergy. 

But this is not all the inconvenience that attends the 
small income that is the portion of some Clergymen : for 
besides that the Clergy in general is disesteemed, they are 
likely also to do but little good in their parish. For it is a 
hard matter for the people to believe, that he talks anything 
to the purpose, that wants ordinary food for his family ; and 
that his advice and exposition can come from above, that is 
scarcely defended against the weather. I have heard a 
travelling poor man beg with very good reason and a great 
stream of seasonable rhetoric ; and yet it has been very little 
minded, because his clothes were torn, or at least out of 
fashion. And, on the other side, I have heard but an 
ordinary saying proceeding from a fine suit and a good lusty 
title of honour, highly admired ; which would not possibly 
have been hearkened to, had it been uttered by a meaner 



J Eachnrd.1 'J'jj^j, ADVANTAGES OF A GOOD COUNTENANCE. 303 

Aug. 1070. J *^ "^ 

person : yet, by all means, because it was a fancy of His 
Worship's, it must be counted high ! and notably expressed ! 
If, indeed, this world were made of sincere and pure beaten 
virtue, like the gold of the first Age, then such idle and fond 
prejudices would be a very vain supposal ; and the doctrine 
that proceeded from the most battered and contemptible 
habit [clothes] and the most sparing diet would be as ac- 
ceptable as that which flowed from a silken cassock [cloak] 
and the best cheer. But seeing the world is not absolutely 
perfect, it is to be questioned whether he that runs upon 
trust for every ounce of provisions he spends in his family, 
can scarce look from his pulpit into any seat in the church 
but that he spies somebody or other that he is beholden to 
and depends upon ; and, for want of money, has scarce con- 
fidence to speak handsomely to his Sexton : it is to be 
questioned, I say, whether one, thus destitute of all tolerable 
subsistence, and thus shattered and distracted with most 
necessary cares, can either invent with discretion, or utter with 
courage, anything that may be beneficial to his people, whereby 
they may become his diligent attenders and hearty respecters. 

And as the people do almost resolve against being amended 
or bettered by the Minister's preaching, whose circum- 
stances as to this life are so bad, and his condition so low : 
so likewise is their devotion very cool and indifferent, in 
hearing from such a one the Prayers of the Church. 

The Divine Service, all the world knows ! is the same, if 
read in the most magnificent Cathedral or in the most 
private parlour ; or if performed by the Archbishop himself, 
or by the meanest of his priests : but as the solemnity of the 
place, besides the consecration of it to GOD Almighty, does 
much influence the devotion of the people ; so also the 
quality and condition of the person that reads it. And 
though there be not that acknowledged difference between a 
Priest comfortably provided for, and him that is in the thorns 
and briars ; as there is between one placed in great dignity 
and authority and one that is in less : yet such a difference 
the people will make, that they will scarce hearken to what 
is read by the one, and yet be most religiously attentive to 
the other. Not, surely, that any one can think that he 
whose countenance is cheerly and his barns full, can petition 



304 The Service read by contemptible men. [lA^iyXo. 

heaven more effectually, or prevail with GOD for the forgive- 
ness of a greater sin, than he who is pitifully pale and is not 
owner of an ear of corn : yet, most certainly, they do not 
delight to confess their sins and sing praises to Gdp with 
him who sighs, more for want of money and victuals, 
than for his trespasses and offences. Thus it is, and will 
be ! do you or I, Sir, what we can to the contrary. 

Did our Church indeed believe, with the Papists, every 
person rightfully ordained, to be a kind of GOD Almighty, 
working miracles and doing wonders; then would people 
most readily prostrate themselves to everything in Holy 
Orders, though it could but just creep! But as our Church 
counts those of the Clergy to be but mortal men, though 
peculiarly dedicated to GOD and His sei-vice ; their be- 
haviour, their condition and circumstances of life, will 
necessarily come into our value and esteem of them. And 
therefore it is no purpose for men to say " that this need not 
be, it being but mere prejudice, humour, and fancy : and that 
if the man be but truly in Holy Orders ; that is the great 
matter ! and from thence come blessings, absolution, and 
intercession through Christ with GOD. And that it is not 
Philosophy, Languages, Ecclesiastical History, Prudence, 
Discretion, and Reputation, by which the Minister can help 
us on towards heaven." 

Notwithstanding this, I say again, that seeing men are 
men, and seeing that we are of the Church of England and 
not of that of Rome, these things ought to be weighed and 
considered ; and for want of being so, our Church of England 
has suffered much. 

And I am almost confident that, since the Reformation, 
nothing has more hindered people from a just estimation of a 
Formof Prayer and our holy Liturgy thd^n employing a company 
of boys, or old illiterate mumblers, to read the Service. And 
I do verily believe, that, at this very day, especially in Cities 
and Corporations, which make up the third part of our nation, 
there is nothing that does more keep back some dissatisfied 
people from Church till Service be over, than that it is read 
by some ^10 or ^^12 man, with whose parts and education 
they are so well acquainted, as to have reason to know that 
he has but skill enough to read the Lessons with twice con- 
ning over. And though the office of the Reader be only to 



8Au|!'^67o.] Waiting outside till Prayers are over. 305 

read word for word, and neither to invent or expound : yet 
people love he should be a person of such worth and know- 
ledge, as it may be supposed he understands what he reads. 
And although for some it were too burdensome a task to 
read the Service twice a day, and preach as often ; yet cer- 
tainly it were much better if the people had but one sermon 
in a fortnight or month, so the Service were performed by 
a knowing and valuable person, than to run an unlearned 
rout of contemptible people into Holy Orders, on purpose 
only to say the Prayers of the Church, who perhaps shall 
understand very little more than a hollow pipe made of tin or 
wainscoat. 

Neither do I here at all reflect upon Cathedrals, where the 
Prayers are usually read by some grave and worthy person. 
And as for the unlearned singers, whether boys or men, 
there is no complaint to be made, as to this case, than that 
they have not an all understanding Organ, or a prudent and 
discreet Cornet. 

Neither need people be afraid that the Minister for want of 
preaching should grow stiff and rusty ; supposing he came 
not into the pulpit every week. For he can spend his time 
very honestly, either by taking better care of what he 
preaches, and by considering what is most useful and season- 
able for the people : and not what subject he can preach upon 
with most ease, or upon what text he can make a brave 
speech, for which nobody shall be the better ! or where he can 
best steal, without being discovered, as is the practice of 
many Divines in private parishes. Or else, he may spend it 
in visiting the sick, instructing the ignorant, and recovering 
such as are gone astray. 

For though there be churches built for public assemblies, 
for public instruction and exhortation ; and though there be 
not many absolutely plain places of Scripture that oblige the 
Minister to walk from house to house : yet, certainly, people 
might receive much more advantage from such charitable 
visits and friendly conferences, than from general discourses 
levelled at the whole world, where perhaps the greatest part 
of the time shall be spent in useless Prefaces, Dividings, and 
Flourishings. Which thing is very practicable ; excepting 
some vast parishes : in which, also, it is much better to do 
good to some, than to none at all. 

EAO. GAR. VII. 20 



3o5 Occasions of Contempt of the Clergy. HAug?'j67o. 

There is but one calamity more that I shall mention, which 
though it need not absolutely, yet it does too frequently, ac- 
company the low condition of many of the Clergy : and that 
is, it is a great hazard if they be not idle, intemperate, and 
scandalous. 

I say, I cannot prove it strictly and undeniably that a man 
smally beneficed, must of necessity be dissolute and 
debauched. But when we consider how much he lies subject 
to the humour of all reprobates, and how easily he is tempted 
from his own house of poverty and melancholy : it is to be 
feared that he will be willing, too often to forsake his own 
Study of a few scurvy books ; and his own habitation of dark- 
ness where there is seldom eating or drinking, for a good 
lightsome one where there is a bountiful provision of both. 

And when he comes there, though he swears not at all ; yet 
he must be sure to say nothing to those that do it by all that 
they can think of. And though he judges it not fit to lead 
the Forlorn in vice and profaneness : yet, if he goes about to 
damp a frolic, there is great danger, not only of losing his 
Sunday dinner, but also all opportunities of such future 
refreshments, for his niceness and squeamishness ! 

And such as are but at all disposed to this lewd kind of 
meetings ; besides the Devil, he shall have solicitors enough ! 
who count all such revelling occasion very unsavoury and un- 
hallowed, unless they have the presence of some Clergyman 
to sanctify the ordinance : who, if he sticks at his glass, bless 
him ! and call him but " Doctor !" and it slides presently [i.e., 
the Clevi^yuian drinks], 

I take no delight, I must confess, to insist upon this : but 
only I could very much wish that such of our Governors as 
go amongst our small preferred Clergy, to take a view of the 
condition of the Church and Chancel ; that they would but 
make inquiry, Whether the Minister himself be not much out 
of repair ? 



Have now done, Sir, with the Grounds of that Dis- 
csteem that many of the Clergy lie under, both by 
the L^nornnce of some, and the extreme Poverty of 
others. And I should have troubled you no further, 
but that 1 thought it convenient not to omit the particular 




8Au^?'j67o.] Ride down sun and moon for ^^"25 a year. 307 

Occasions that do concur to the making of many of our 
Clergy so pitifully poor and contemptible. 

The first thing that contributes much to the Poverty of the 
Clergy is the great scarcity of Livings. 

Churches and Chapels we have enough, it is to be confessed, 
if compared with the bigness of our nation : but, in respect of 
that infinite number that are in Holy Orders, it is a very 
plain case, that there is a very great want. And I am confi- 
dent, that, in a very little time, I could procure hundreds 
that should ride both sun and moon down, and be ever- 
lastingly yours ! if you could help them but to a Living of £"25 
or £"30 a year. 

And this, I suppose, to be chiefly occasioned upon these 
two accounts : either from the eagerness and ambition that some 
people have, of going into Orders ; or from the refuge of others 
into the Church, who, being otherwise disappointed of a 
livelihood, hope to make sure of one by that means. 

First, I say, that which increases the unprovided - for 
number of the Clergy, is people posting into Orders before 
they know their Message or business, only out of a certain 
pride and ambition. Thus some are hugely in love with 
the mere title of Priest or Deacon : never considering how 
they shall live, or what good they are likely to do in their 
Office ; but only they have a fancy, that a cassock, if it be 
made long, is a very handsome garment, though it be never 
paid for; that the Desk is clearly the best, and the Pulpit, 
the highest seat in all the parish ; that they shall take place 
[precedence] of most Esquires and Right Worshipfuls ; that 
they shall have the honour of being spiritual guides and 
counsellors ; and they shall be supposed to understand more 
of the Mind of GOD than ordinary, though perhaps they 
scarcely know the Old Law from the New, nor the Canon from 
the Apocrypha. Many, I say, such as these, there be, who 
know not where to get two groats, nor what they have to say 
to the people : but only because they have heard that the 
office of a Minister is the most noble and honourable employ- 
ment in the world ; therefore they (not knowing in the least 
what the meaning of that is). Orders, by all means, must 
have ! though it be to the disparagement of that holy 
function. 

Others also there be, who are not so highly pos^sscd with 



3o8 Ordained Clergy far in excess of Livings. y-Aug':^,' 



ard. 
670, 



the mere dis^^nity of the office and honourableness of the em- 
ployment ; but think, had they but hcence and authority to 
preach, O how they could pay it away ! and that they can 
tell the people such strange things, as they never heard before, 
in all their lives ! That they have got such a commanding 
voice ! such heart-breaking expressions ! such a peculiar 
method of Text-dividing ! and such notable helps for the 
interpreting all difficulties in Scripture ! that they can shew 
the people a much shorter way to heaven than has been, as 
yet, made known by any ! 

Such a forwardness as this, of going in Holy Orders, either 
merely out of an ambitious humour of being called a Priest ; or 
of thinking they could do such feats and wonders, if they 
might be but free of the Pulpit, has filled the nation with 
many more Divines than there is any competent mainte- 
nance for in the Church. 

Another great crowd that is made in the Church is by 
those that take in there only as a place of shelter and refuge. 
Thus, we have many turn Priests and Deacons, either for 
want of employment in their profession of Law, Physic, or the 
like ; or having been unfortunate in their trade, or having 
broken a leg, or an arm, and so disabled from following 
their former calling ; or having had the pleasure of spending 
their estate, or being (perhaps deservedly) disappointed of 
their inheritance. The Church is a very large and good 
*' Sanctuary" ; and one Spiritual shilling is as good as three 
Temporality shillings. Let the hardest come to the hardest ! 
if they can get by heart. Quid est fides ? Quid est Ecclesia ? 
quot sunt Concilia Generalia ? and gain Orders ; they may 
prove Readers or Preachers, according as their gifts and 
opportunities shall lie. Now many, such as these, the Church 
being not able to provide for (as there is no great reason that 
she should be solicitous about it) must needs prove a very 
great disparagement to her; they coming hither, just as the 
old heathens used to go to prayers. When nothing would 
stop the anger of the gods, then for a touch of devotion! and 
if there be no way to get victuals ; rather than starve, let us 
Read or Preach ! 

In short. Sir, we are perfectly overstocked with Professors 
of Divinity : there being scarce employment for half of those 
who undertake that office. And unless we had some of the 



sA^u'^S'.] Exportation of Divines by the ton. 309 

Romish tricks, to ramble up and down, and cry Pardons and 
Indulgences ; or, for want of a living, have a good store of 
clients in the business of Purgatory, or the like, and so make 
such unrighteous gains of Religion : it were certainly much 
better if many of them were otherwise determined. Or un- 
less we have some vent [export] for our Learned Ones, beyond 
the sea; and could transport so many tons of Divines yearly, 
as we do other commodities with which the nation is over- 
stocked ; we do certainly very unadvisedly, to breed up so many 
to that Holy Calling, or to suffer so many to steal into Orders : 
seeing there is not sufficient work and employment for them. 

The next thing that does as much to heighten the misery of 
our Church, as to the poverty of it, is the Gentry's designing, 
not only the weak, the lame, and usually the most ill-favoured 
of their children for the office of the Ministry; but also such as 
they intend to settle nothing upon for their subsistence : 
leaving them wholly to the bare hopes of Church preferment. 
For, as they think, let the Thing look how it will, it is good 
enough for the Church ! and that if it had but limbs enough 
to climb the pulpit, and eyes enough to find the day of the 
month, it will serve well enough to preach, and read Service 1 

So, likewise, they think they have obliged the Clergy very 
much, if they please to bestow two or three years' education 
upon a younger son at the University: and then commend 
him to the grace of GOD, and the favour of the Church ; 
without one penny of money, or inch of land ! 

You must not think, that hewillspoilhiseldestson'sestate,or 
hazard the lessening of the credit of the family, to do that which 
may, any way, tend to the reputation and honour of the Clergy ! 

And thus it comes to pass, that you may commonly ride 
ten miles, and scarce meet with a Divine that is worth 
above two spoons and a pepper box, besides his living or 
spiritual preferments. For, as for the Land, that goes 
sweeping away with the eldest son, for the immortality of 
the family ! and, as for the Money, that is usually employed 
for to bind out [apprentice] and set up other children ! And 
thus, you shall have them make no doubt of giving ;^500 or a 
5^1,000 L = £1,500 or ;^3,ooo now] for a stock [capital to them : 
but for the poor Divinity son, if he gets but enough to buy 
a broad hat at second-hand, and a small System of Faith or 
two, that is counted stock sufficient for him to set up withal. 



3 lo Bricklayers better off than the Clergy. yXng.^'iS: 

And, possibly, he might make some kind of shift in this 
world, if anybody will engage that he shall have, neither 
wife nor children : but, if it so fall out, that he leaves the 
world, and behind him either the one or the others : in what 
a dismal condition are these likely to be ! and how will their 
sad calamities reflect upon the Clergy! So dismal a thing 
is this commonly judged, that those that at their departure 
out of this life, are piously and virtuously disposed, do 
usually reckon the taking care for the relief of the poor Minis- 
ters' widows, to be an opportunity of as necessary charity as 
the mending the highways, and the erecting of hospitals. 

But neither are spiritual preferments only scarce, by reason 
of that great number that lie hovering over them ; and that 
they that are thus on the wing, are usually destitute of any 
other estate and livelihood : but also, when they come into 
possession of them, they finding, for the most part, nothing 
but a little sauce and Second Course (pigs, geese, and 
apples), must needs be put upon great perplexities for the 
standing necessaries of a family. 

So that if it be inquired by any one, How comes it to pass, 
that we have so many in Holy Orders that understand so 
little, and are able to do so little service in the Church ? 
if we may answer plainly and truly, we may say, " Because 
they are fit for nothing else ! " 

For, shall we think that any man that is not cursed to 
uselessness, poverty, and misery, will be content with £20 or 
3^30 a year ? For though, in the bulk, it looks, at first, like 
a bountiful estate ; yet, if we think of it a little better, we shall 
find that an ordinary bricklayer or carpenter (I mean not 
your great undertakers [conti-actors] and master workmen) that 
earns constantly but his two shillings a day, has clearly a 
better revenue, and has certainly the command of more 
money. For that the one has no dilapidations and the like, 
to consume a great part of his weekly wages ; of which you 
know how much the other is subject unto. 

So that as long as we have so many small and contemp- 
tible livings belonging to our Church, let the world do what 
it can ! we must expect that they should be supplied by 
very lamentable and unserviceable Things, For that nobody 
else will meddle with them ! unless, one in an Age abounding 
with money, charil}-, and goodness, will preach for nothing ! 



8 A^.g^'iri] It IS DESIGNED NOT TO SAVE MaYORS &C. ONLY. 3 I I 

For if men of knowledge, prudence, and wealth have a fancy 
against a Living of £20 or £^0 a year; there is no way to 
get them into such an undertaking, but by sending out a 
spiritual press [press facing] : for that very few volunteers that 
are worth, unless better encouraged, will go into that Holy 
Warfare ! but it will be left to those who cannot devise how 
otherwise to live ! 

Neither must people say that, " besides Bishoprics, Pre- 
bendaries, and the like, we have several brave benefices, 
suffice to invite those of the best parts, education, and dis- 
cretion." For, imagine one Living in forty is worth ;^ioo 
[=5^300 now] a year, and supplied by a man of skill and 
wholesome counsel : what are the other thirty-nine the better 
for that ? What are the people about Carlisle bettered by 
his instructions and advice who lives at Dover? It was 
certainly our Saviour's mind, not only that the Gospel should 
be preached to all nations at first ; but that the meaning and 
power of it should be preserved, and constantly declared to 
all people, by such as had judgement to do it. 

Neither again must they say, that " Cities, Corporations, 
and the great trading towns of this nation, which are the 
strength and glory of it, and that contain the useful people 
of the world, are usually instructed by very learned and 
judicious persons." For, I suppose that our Saviour's design 
was not that Mayors, Aldermen, and merchants should be 
only saved : but also that all plain country people should 
partake of the same means ; who (though they read not so 
many Gazettes as citizens ; nor concern themselves where the 
Turk or King of France [Louis XIV.] sets on next) yet the 
true knowledge of GOD is now so plainly delivered in 
Scripture, that there wants nothing but sober and prudent 
Offerers of the same, to make it saving to those of the 
meanest understandings. And therefore, in all parishes, if 
possible, there ought to be such a fixed and settled provision 
as might reasonably invite some careful and prudent person, 
for the people's guide and instruction in holy matters. 

And furthermore, it might be added, that the revenue 
belonging to most of the Corporation Livings is no such 
mighty business : for were it not for the uncertain and 
humorsome contribution of the well-pleased parishioners, 
the Parson and his family might be easily starved, for all tha 



312 iNDISrOSITION OF PEOPLE TO GO TO ClIURCII. \_t:^J^':)%t 

lands and income that belong to the Church. Besides, the 
great mischief that such kind of hired Preachers have done 
in the World — which I shall not stay here, to insist upon. 

And as we have not churches enough, in respect of the 
great multitude that are qualified for a Living: so, considering 
the smallness of the revenue and the number of people that 
are to be the hearers, it is very plain that we have too many. 
And we shall, many times, find two churches in the same 
yard, when as one would hold double the people of both the 
parishes. If they were united for the encouragement of some 
deserving person, he might easily make shift to spend, very 
honestly and temperately, the revenue of both. 

And what though churches stand at a little further 
distance ? People may please to walk a mile, without 
distemperating themselves ; when as they shall go three or 
four to a market, to sell two pennyworth of eggs. 

But suppose they resolved to pretend that they shall catch 
cold (the clouds being more than ordinarily thick upon the 
Sundry ; as they usually are, if there be religion in the case) ; 
and that they are absolutely bent upon having instruction 
brought to their own town. Why might not one sermon a 
day, or (rather than fail) one in a fortnight, from a prudent 
and well-esteemed-of Preacher, do as well as two a day from 
him that talks, all the year long, nothing to the purpose ; 
and thereupon is laughed at and despised ? 

I know what people will presently say to this, viz., that 
" if, upon Sunday, the Church doors be shut, the Alehouses 
will be open ! and therefore, there must be somebody (though 
never so weak and lamentable !) to pass away the time in the 
Church, that the people may be kept sober and peaceable." 

Truly, if religion and the worship of GOD consisted only 
in negatives, and that the observation of the Sabbath, was 
only not to be drunk ! then they speak much to the purpose : 
but if it be otherwise, very little. It being not much unlike, 
as it is the fashion in many places, to the sending of little 
children of two or three years old to a School Dame, without 
any design of learning one letter, but only to keep them out of 
the fire and water. 

Last of all, people must not say that "there needs no great 
store of learning in a Minister; and therefore a small Living 
may answer his deserts : for that there be Iloniilies made on 



8".S''i67o:]Advice,xot Preaching, the Parson's woRK.313 

purpose by the Church for young beginners and slow inventors. 
Whereupon it is, that such difference is made between giving 
Orders, and License to Preach : the latter being granted only 
to such, as the Bishop shall judge able to make sermons." 

But this does not seem to do the business. For though it 
be not necessary for every Guide of a parish to understand 
all the Oriental languages, or to make exactly elegant or 
profound discourses for the Pulpit ; yet, most certainly, it is 
very requisite that he should be so far learned and judicious 
as prudently to advise, direct, inform, and satisfy the people 
in holy matters; when they demand it, or beg it from him. 
Which to perform readily and judiciously requires much 
more discretion and skill, than, upon long deliberation, to 
make a continued talk of an hour, without any great discern- 
ible failings. So that were a Minister tied up, never to 
speak one sentence of his own invention out of the pulpit in 
his whole lifetime ; yet doubtless many other occasions there 
be, for which neither wisdom nor reputation should be want- 
ing in him that has the care and government of a parish. 

I shall not here go about to please myself with the imagi- 
nation of all the Great Tithes being restored to the Church ; 
having little reason to hope to see such days of virtue. Nor 
shall I here question the almightiness of former Kings and 
Parliaments, nor dispute whether all the King Henries in 
the world, with ever such a powerful Parliament, were able 
to determine to any other use, what was once solemnly 
dedicated to GOD, and His service. By yet, when we look 
over the Prefaces to those Acts of Parliament whereby some 
Church revenues were granted to Henry VHL, one cannot 
but be much taken with the ingenuity of that Parliament ; 
that when the King wanted a supply of money and an 
augmentation to his revenue, how handsomely, out of the 
Church they made provision for him, without doing them- 
selves any injury at all ! 

For, say they, seeing His Majesty is our joy and life; 
seeing that he is so courageous and wise ; seeing that he is so very 
tender of, and well ajfccted to, all his subjects ; and that he has 
been at such large expenses, for five and twenty whole years, 
to defend and protect this his realm: therefore, in all duty and 
gratitude, and as a manifest token of our unfeigned thankful- 
ness, We do grant unto the king and his heirs for ever, &c. 



314 Rob THE Bis II ors TO help the Clergy! ^XuSS 

It follows as closely as can be, that because the king has 
been a j^ood and deserving king, and had been at much 
trouble and expense for the safety and honour of the nation, 
that therefore all his wants shall be supplied out of tha 
Church ! as if all the charges that he had been at, were upon 
the account only of his Ecclesiastical subjects, and not in 
relation to the rest. 

It is not. Sir, for you or I to guess, which wa}' the whole 
Clergy in general, might be better provided for. But, sure 
it is, and must not be denied, that so long as many Livings 
continue as they now are, thus impoverished ; and that there be 
so few encouragements for men of sobriet}', wisdom, and learn- 
ing : we have no reason to expect much better Instructors 
and Governors of parishes, than at present we commonly find. 

There is a way, I know, that some people love marvel- 
lously to talk of; and that is a just and equal levelling of 
Ecclesiastical preferments. 

"What a delicate refreshment," say they, "would it be, 
if ;f2o,ooo or £30,000 a year were taken from the Bishops, 
and discreetly sprinkled amongst the poorer and meaner 
sort of the Clergy ! how would it rejoice their hearts, and 
encourage them in their Office ! What need those great and 
sumptuous palaces, their city and their country houses, their 
parks and spacious waters, their costly dishes and fashion- 
able sauces ? May not he that lives in a small thatched 
house, that can scarcely walk four strides in his own ground, 
that has only read waW concerning venison, fish, and fowl: 
may not he, I say, preach as loud and to as much purpose as 
one of those high and mighty Spiritualists ? Go to, then ! 
Seeing it hath pleased GOD to make such a bountiful pro- 
vision for His Church in general, what need we be solicitous 
about the emending the low condition of many of the Clergy, 
when as there is such a plain remedy at hand, had we but 
grace to apply it?" 

This invention pleases some mainly well. But for all the 
great care they pretend to have of the distressed part of the 
Clergy, I am confident, one might easily guess what would 
please them much better ! if (instead of augmenting small 
benefices) the Bishops would be pleased to return to them, 
those lands purchased in their absence {i.e., during the Coin- 
iiiuiiK'caltJi, u'liiJi were restored to the Bishoprics at the Re- 



8Aug-S] Beloved ! there is little hope of that .'315 

storation] : and then, as for the relieving of the Clergy, they 
would try if they could find out another way ! 

But, art thou in good earnest ? my excellent Contriver ! 
Dost thou think that if the greatest of our Church prefer- 
ments were wisely parcelled out amongst those that are in 
want, it would do such feats and courtesies ? And dost 
thou not likewise think, that if ten or twenty of the lustiest 
Noblemen's estates of England were cleverly sliced among 
the indigent ; would it not strangely refresh some of the 
poor Laity that cry "Small Coal!" or grind scissors! 
I do suppose if GOD should afterwards incline thy mind 
(for I fancy it will not be as yet, a good while !) to be a 
13enefactor to the Church ; thy wisdom may possibly direct 
thee to disperse thy goodness in smaller parcels, rather than 
to flow in upon two or three with full happiness. 

But if it be my inclination to settle upon one Ecclesias- 
tical person and his successors for ever, a ;;^i,ooo a year 
[=;^3,ooo now] upon condition only to read the Service of the 
Church once in a week ; and you take it ill, and find fault with 
my prudence and the method of my munificence, and say that 
" the stipend is much too large for such a small task ": yet, 
I am confident, that should I make thy Laityship heir of 
such an estate, and oblige thee only to the trouble and 
expense of spending a single chicken or half a dozen larks once 
a year, in commemoration of me ; that thou wouldst count me 
the wisest man that ever was, since the Creation ! and pray 
to GOD never to dispose thy mind, to part with one farthing 
of it for any other use, than for the service of thyself and thy 
family. 

And yet so it is, that, because the Bishops, upon their 
first being restored |in 1660], had the confidence to levy 
fines, according as they were justly due ; and desired to live 
in their own houses, if not pulled down ! and to receive their 
own rents : presently, they cry out, " The Churchmen have 
got all the treasure and money of the nation into their hands." 

If they have, let them thank GOD for it ! and make a good 
use of it. Weep not, Beloved ! for there is very little hope 
that they will cast it all into the sea, on purpose to stop the 
mouths of them, that say " they have too much I " 

What other contrivances there may be, for the settling 



3i6 Ridiculous Preaching moves to Atheism. [I-/^';';-^;^: 

upon Ministers in general, a sufficient revenue for their sub- 
sistence and encouragement in their office ; I shall leave to 
be considered of, by the Governors of Learning and Religion. 

Only thus much is certain, that so long as the main- 
tenance of many Ministers is so very small, it is not to be 
avoided, but that a great part of them will want learning, 
prudence, courage, and esteem to do any good where they live. 

And what if we have (as by all must be acknowledged) 
as wise and learned Bishops as be in the world, and many 
others of very great understanding and wisdom ; yet (as was 
before hinted) unless there be provided for most towns and 
parishes some tolerable and sufficient Guides, the strength of 
Religion, and the credit of the Clergy will daily languish 
more and more. 

Not that it is to be believed that every small country 
parish should be altogether hopeless as to the next life, 
unless they have a Hooker, a Chillingworth, a Hammond, 
or a Sanderson dwelling amongst them : but it is requisite, 
and might be brought about, that somebody there should be, 
to whom the people have reason to attend, and to be directed 
and guided by him. 

I have. Sir, no more to say, were it not that you find 
the word Religion in the Title : of which in particular I have 
spoken very little. Neither need I! considering how nearly 
it depends, as to its glory and strength, upon the reputation 
and mouth of the Priest. 

And I shall add no more but this, viz., that among those 
many things that tend to the decay of Religion, and of a due 
reverence of the Holy Scriptures, nothing has more occa- 
sioned it than the ridiculous and idle discourses that are 
uttered out of pulpits. For when the Gallants of the world 
do observe how the Ministers themselves do jingle, quibble, 
and play the fool with the Texts: no wonder, if they, who are 
so inclinable to Atheism, do not only deride and despise the 
Priests ; but droll upon the Bible ! and make a mock of all 
that is sober and sacred ! 

I am, Sir, Your most humble servant, 

T. B. 

Aiii^nst 8, 1670. 

FINIS. 



17 




Isaac Bickerstaff 
[i.e.y R I c HA R D Steele"]. 

The miseries of the Domestic Chaplain^ 
i?2 1 7 10. 



Sir, 



[The Tatlcr. No. 255. Thursday, 23 Nov. 1710.] 

To the Censor of Great Britain. 

Am at present, tender very great difficulties ; which 
is not in the power of any one besides yourself, 
to redress. Whether or not, you shall think it a 
proper Case to come before your Court of Honour, 
I cannot tell : but thus it is. 



I am Chaplain to an honourable Family, very regular at the 
Hours of Devotion, and I hope of an nnblamcablc life : but, for 
not offering to rise at the Second Course, I found my Patron and 
his Lady very sullen and out of humour; though, at first, I did 
not know the reason of it. 




3l8 A CIIAPLAI^XY LOST BY EATING JELLY. [^3 i^ov^^^'o; 

At length, when I happened to help myself to a jelly, the Lady 
of the house, otherwise a devout woman, told me " It did not 
become a Man of my Cloth, to delight in such frivolous food!" 
But as I still continued to sit out the last course, I was yesterday 
informed by the butler, that "His Lordship had no further 
occasion for my service." 

All which is humbly submitted to your consideration, by, 

Sir, 
Your most humble servant, &c. 

The case of this Gentleman deserves pity, especially if he 
loves sweetmeats ; to which, if I may guess by his letter, 
he is no enemy. 

In the meantime, I have often wondered at the indecency 
of discarding the holiest man from the table, as soon as the 
most delicious parts of the entertainment are served up : 
and could never conceive a reason for so absurd a custom. 

Is it because a licorous palate, or a sweet tooth (as they 
call it), is not consistent with the sanctity of his character? 

This is but a trilling pretence ! No man of the most rigid 
virtue, gives offence by any excesses in plum pudding or 
plum porridge ; and that, because they are the first parts 
of the dinner. Is there anything that tends to incitaiion 
in sweetmeats, more than in ordinary dishes ? Certainly 
not ! Sugar-plums are a very innocent diet ; and conserves 
of a much colder nature than your common pickles. 

I have sometimes thought that the Ceremony of the Chap- 
lain flying away from the Dessert was typical and figurative. 
To mark out to the company, how they ought to retire from 
all the luscious baits of temptation, and deny their appetites 
the gratifications that are most pleasing to them. 

Or, at least, to signify that we ought to stint ourselves in 
the most lawful satisfactions ; and not make our Pleasure, 
but our Support the end of eating. 

But, most certainly, if such a lesson of temperance had been 
necessary at a table : our Clergy would have recommended 
it to all the Lay masters of families ; and not have disturbed 



R. Steele. 

Nov 



17^0.] Steele's beautiful wayof putting things. 3 1 9 



other men's tables with such unreasonable examples of 
abstinence. 

The original therefore of this barbarous custom, I take to 
have been merely accidental. 

The Chaplain retired, out of pure complaisance, to make 
room for the removal of the dishes, or possibly for the 
ranging of the dessert. This, by degrees, grew into a duty; 
till, at length, as the fashion improved, the good man found 
himself cut off from the Third part of the entertainment : 
and, if the arrogance of the Patron goes on, it is not impos- 
sible but, in the next generation, he may see himself reduced 
to the Tithe or Tenth Dish of the table. A sufficient caution 
not to part with any privilege we are once possessed of ! 

It was usual for the Priest, in old times, to feast upon 
the sacrifice, nay the honey cake ; while the hungry Laity 
looked upon him with great devotion : or, as the late Lord 
Rochester describes it in a very lively manner, 

And while the Priest did eat, the People stared. 

At present, the custom is inverted. The Laity feast 
while the Priest stands by as an humble spectator. 

This necessarily puts the good man upon making great 
ravages on all the dishes that stand near him ; and upon 
distinguishing himself by voraciousness of appetite, as know- 
ing that " his time is short." 



I would fain ask these stiff-necked Patrons, Whether they 
would not take it ill of a Chaplain that, in his grace, after 
meat, should return thanks for the whole entertainment, 
with an exception to the dessert ? And yet I cannot but 
think that in such a proceeding, he would but deal with 
them as they deserved. 



What would a Roman Catholic priest think (who is 
always helped first, and placed next the ladies), should he 
see a Clergyman giving his company the slip at the first 
appearance of the tarts or sweetmeats ? Would he not 



320 The Patrons' insolence of tower. Q^ n„v1^\7,'o. 

believe that he had the same antipathy to a candid orange 
or a piece of puff paste, as some have to a Cheshire cheese 
or a breast of mutton ? 

Yet to so ridiculous a hei^rht is this foolish custom grown, 
that even the Christmas Pie, which in its very nature is 
a kind of consecrated cate and a badge of dis^nction, is 
often forbidden to the Druid of the family. 

Strange ! that a sirloin of beef, whether boiled or roasted, 
when entire, is exposed to his utmost depredations and in- 
cisions ; but if minced into small pieces and tossed up with 
plums and sugar, it changes its property ; and, forsooth, it 
is meat for his Master i 

In this Case, I know not which to censure [blame], the 
Patron or the Chaplain ! the insolence of power, or the abject- 
ness of dependence ! 

For my own part, I have often blushed to see a Gentleman, 
whom I knew to have more Wit and Learning than myself, 
and who was bred up with me at the University upon the 
same foot of a liberal education, treated in such an igno- 
minious manner ; and sunk beneath those of his own rank, 
by reason of that character which ought to bring him honour. 

This deters men of generous minds from placing themselves 
in such a station of life ; and by that means frequently ex- 
cludes Persons of Quality from the improving and agreeable 
conversation of a learned and obsequious friend. 

Mr. Oldham lets us know that he was affrighted from the 
thought of such an employment, by the scandalous sort of 
treatment, which often accompanies it. 

Some iJiink iJicmselvcs exalted to the sky., 
If they li'^ht ill some noble family : 
Diet, a horse, and Thirty pounds a year ; 
Besides tWadvaniage of his Lordship's caVf 
The credit of the busiiicss, and the State ; 



?3'nosw7io.j Oldham's DEscRimoy of a Ciiaplain: 321 

Arc things that in a youngster's sense sound great. 

Little the unexperienced wretch does know. 

What slavery he oft must tmdergo ! 

Who, though in silken scarf and cassock drest, 

Wears but a gayer livery, at best. 

When dinner calls, the Implement must wait, 

With holy words to consecrate the meat : 

But hold it, for a favour seldom known, 

If he be deigned the honour to sit down ! 

Soon as the tarts appear, "Sir Crape, withdraw ! 

These dainties are not for a spiritual maze ! 

Observe your distance ! and be sure to stand 

Hard by the cistern with your cap in hand I 

There, for diversion, yotc may pick your teeth 

Till the kind Voider conies for your relief.'" 

Let others who, such meannesses can brook, 
Strike countenance to every Great Man's look : 
I rate my freedom higher! 

The author's raillery is the raillery of a friend, and does 
not turn the Sacred Order into ridicule : but it is a just 
censure on such persons as take advantages from the neces- 
sities of a Man of Merit, to impose upon him hardships that 
are by no means suitable to the dignity of his profession. 




E.\,. 1: i;.\ VII. 



21 




Nestor Ironside 
[/.6f., Richard Steele], 

A?70ther descripiio?t of the miseries of the 
Domestic Chapiai^t^ i?t 171 3, a.d. 

\l'hc Guardian. No. 173. Thurstlay, 17 Sept. 1713.] 

Hen I am disposed to t;ive myself a day's 
rest, I order the Lion to be opened j.c, 
a lettcr-hox at Button's Coffee-house], and 
search into that magazine of intelligence 
for such letters as are to my purpose. 
The first I locked into, comes to me 
from one who is Chaplain to a great 
family. 

He treats himself, in the beginning of it, after such a manner 
as I am persuaded no Man of Sense would treat him. Even 
the Lawyer, and the Plnsician to a Man of Quality, expect 
to be used like gentlemen ; and much more, may any one of 
so superior a profession ! 

I am by no means encouraging that dispute, Whether the 
Chaplain, or the Master of the house be the better man, and 
the more to be respected ? The two learned authors, Dr. HicKS 




17 scpu 'iTi's'] Chaplain, A FRIEND, GUIDE, & companion. 323 

and Mr. Collier (to whom I mi,£^ht add several others) are 
to he excused, if they have carried the point a Httle too hij^h 
in favour of the Chaplain : since in so corrupt an Ag;e as that 
we Hve in, the popular opinion runs so far into the other 
extreme. 

The only controversy between the Patron and the Chaplain 
ought to be, Which should promote the good designs and 
interests of each other most ? And, for my own part, I think 
it is the happiest circumstance in a great Estate or Title, that 
it qualifies a man for choosing, out of such a learned and 
valuable body of men as that of the English Clergy, a friend, 
a spiritual guide, and a companion. 

The letter which I have received from one of this Order, is 
as follows : 



Mr. Guardian, 

Hope you will not only indulge mc in the liberty of two 
ar three questions ; hut also in the solution of them. 

I have had the honour, many years, of being 
Chaplain in a noble Family ; and of being accounted 
the highest servant in the hotise : either out of respect to my 
Cloth, or because I lie in the uppermost garret. 

Whilst my old Lord lived, his table was always adorned with 
useful Learning and innocent Mirth, as well as covered with 
Plenty. I was not looked upon as a piece of furniture, fit only to 
sanctify and garnish a feast; but treated as a Gentleman, and 
generally desired to fill up the conversation, an hour after I had 
done my duty [i.e., said grace after dinner]. 

But now my young Lord is come to the Estate, I find I am 
looked upon as a Censor Morum, an obstacle to mirth and talk : 
and suffered to retire constantly with " Prosperity to the Church ! " 
in my mouth j.e., after drinking this toast]. 

/ declare, solemnly. Sir, that I have heard nothing from all the 
fine Gentlemen who visit us, more remarkable, for half a year, 
than that one young Lord was seven times drunk at Genoa. 

J have lately taken the liberty to stay three or four rounds [i.e., 




324 A TvrE OF THE Georgian notui.ttv. [ ,7 s^pu^T's' 

of the bottlej beyond [the toast of] The Church ! to see what topics 
of disooiLvsc they went upon : but, to my great surprise, have hardly 
heard a word all the time, besides the Toasts. Then they all stared 
full in my face, and shewed all the actions of uneasiness till I was 
gone. 

Immediately upon my departure, to use the words of an old 
Comedy, " I find by the noise they make, that they had a mind to 
be private.'' 

I am at a loss to imagine what conversation they have among 
one another, wJiich I may not be present at : since I love innocent 
Mirth as miicli as any of them ; and am shocked with no freedoms 
whatsoever, which are inconsistent with Christianity. 

I have, with much ado, maintained my post hithcito at the 
dessert, and every day cat a tart in the face of my Patron : but 
how long I shall be invested with this privilege, I do not know. 
For the servants, who do not see me supported as I was in my 
old Lord's time, begin to brush very familiarly by me : and they 
thrust aside my chair, when they set the sweetmeats on the table. 

I have been born and educated a Gentleman, and desire you, will 
make the public sensible that the Christian Priesthood was never 
thought, in any Age or country, to debase the Man who is a member 
of it. Among the great services which your useful Papers daily 
do to Religion, this perhaps will not be the least : and it will lay a 
very great obligation on 

Your unknown servant, 

G. W, 




325 

Lyrics^ Elegies^ M'c.j7^07n Madrigals^ 
Canzonets^ ^c. 

FiR^T Set of JVIadriq/vl?. 
April, 1598. 

To the Right Worshipful and valorous 
Knight Sir Charles Cavendish, 

Right W ORSHiPFUL A NDRENOW NED Knight. 

\T HATH happened of late, I know not how, whether by 
my folly or fortune, to commit some of my Labours 
to the press. Which, the weaker the Work is, have 
more need of an honourable Patron. Everything 
persuades me, though they seem not absolute, that your Countenance 
is a sufficiejit warrant for them, against sharp tongues and un- 
friendly censures. Knowing your rare virtues and honourable 
accomplishments to be such as may justly challenge their better 
regard and opinion, whom it shall please you to patronize. 

If, perchance, they shall prove worthy your patronage, my 
affection, duty, and good will bind me rather to dedicate them to 
you, than to any other : both for the reverence and honour I owe 
to all other your most singular virtues ; and especially also for 
your excellent skill in music, and your great love and favour of 
Music. 

There remaineth only your favourable acceptance, which humbly 
craving at your hands, with protestation of all duty and service, 
I humbly take my leave. 

From the Augustine Friars, the xii. of April, 1598. 
Your Worship's 

Ever most bounden and dutiful, in all humility, 

John W i l b y e . 




326 Lyrics, Elegies, & c. from [^^- ^^' ^^i^l'^ 



398. 



Lyrics^ Elegies^ ^c. from Madrigals^ 
Canzo7iets^ &^c. 

FiR^T Set or JVIADRIQAL3. 
By John W i l b y e . 




Ly Love aloft to heaven, and look out 
Fortune ! 
Then sweetly her importune, 
That I from my Calisto best beloved 
As you or she set down be never moved ! 
And Love, to Carimel, see you commend 
me! 
Fortune for his sweet sake may chance befriend me. 



Way, thou shalt not love me! 
So shall my love seem s^reater, 
And I shall love thee better. 
Shall it be so ? what say you ? 
\\' by speak you not ? I pray you ! 
Nay then I know you love me, 
That so you may disprove me. 





';Y ME, can every rumour 
Thus start my Lady's humour ? 
Name ye some Gallant to her, 
Why, straight, forsooth, I woo her. 
Then bursts She forth in passion, 
" You men, love but for fashion 1 " 
Yet sure I am, that no man 
Ever so loved woman. 
Yet, alas. Love be wary 1 
For women be contrary. 



^'- '^iprn'Sa M A D R I G A L S, C A N Z O N E T S , & C . 32 7 




Eep, O mine eyes, and cease not ! 
Your spring tides, out alas, methinks, increase not. 
O when, O when begin you 
To swell so high, that I may drown me in you ! 




Ear Pity, how ! ah, how wouldst thou become her ! 

That best becometh Beauty's best attiring. 
Shall my desert deserve no favour from her. 

But still to waste m}-self in deep admiring ? 
Like him that calls to Echo to relieve him. 
Still tells and hears the tale that grieves him. 




E RESTLESS thoughts, that harbour discontent, 

Cease your assaults ! and let my heart lament ! 
I And let my tongue have leave to tell my grief, 
That She may pity, though not grant relief. 
Pity would help what Love hath almost slain, 
And salve the wound that festered this disdain. 




Hat needeth all this travail and turmoiling, 
Shortening the life's sweet pleasure, 
To seek this far-fetched treasure, 
Li those hot climates, under Phoebus broiling ? 



O fools ! can you not see a traffic nearer, 

In my sweet Lady's face ? 

Where Nature sheweth. 

Whatever treasure eye sees, or heart knoweth ! 

Rubies and diamonds dainty, 

And Orient pearls, in such plenty! 

Coral and ambergris sweeter and dearer 
Than which the South Seas or Moluccas lend us! 
Or either hidics, East or West, do send us. 



328 Lyrics, Elegies, & c. from ['^^^ '^^iprTIS: 




Las, what hope of speeding, 
Where Hope, beguiled, lies bleeding? 
She bade me come, when She spied me ; 
And when I came, She flied me ! 
Thus when I was beguiled 
She, at my sighing, smiled. 
But if you take such pleasure, 
(Of joy and hope, my treasure !) 
By deceit to bereave me ; 
Love me ! and so deceive me ! 




Ady, when I behold the roses sprouting. 
Which clad in damask mantles, deck the arbours ; 
My eyes present me with a double doubting: 
For viewing both alike ; hardly, my mind supposes, 
Whether the roses be your lips, or your lips the roses ? 



J 5 



Hus saith my Cloris bright 
When we, of Love sit down and talk together. 
" Beware of Love, Dear ! Love is a walking sprite ! 
And Love is this and that. 
And O, I know not what ! 
And comes and goes again, I wot not whither ! " 
No, no, these are but bugs to breed amazing : 
For in her eyes, I saw his torchlight blazing ! 




Dii:u, sweet Amarillis, 

I'or since to part your will is, 

() heavy tiding ! 

Here is for me, no biding! 

Yet, once again, ere that I part with you, 
Amarillis, sweet Amarillis, adieu ! 



^'^■^y Jprii'Ss-] Madrigals, C a x\ z o x e t s, & c. 329 




Ie, helpless man, since She denies thee grace! 

Die and despair, sith She doth scorn to love thee ! 
Farewell, most Fair ! though thou dost Fair deface ! 

Sith for my duteous love, thou dost reprove me ! 
Those smiling eyes, that sometimes me revived, 
Clouded with frowns, have me of life deprived. 




Fall, O stay me ! 

Dear Love, with joys ye sla}' me ! 

Of life, your lips deprive me ! 

Sweet, let your lips revive me ! 
O whither are you hasting ? and leave my life thus wasting ! 
My health on you relying, 'twere sin to leave me dying ! 

And though my love abounding 
Did make me fall a swooning, 
Yet am I well contented 
Still so to be tormented. 
And Death can never fear me, 
As long as you are near me. 



1 


1 



Always beg, yet never am relieved ; 

I grieve, because my griefs are not believed ; 

I cry aloud in vain, my voice outstretched. 

And get but this : mine echo calls me " Wretched ! " 

Thus Love commands, that I in vain complain me ; 
And Sorrow wills, that She shall still disdain me. 
Yet did I hope, which hope, my life prolonged ; 
To hear her say, " Alas, his love was wronged ! " 




Ady, your words do spite me ! 
Yet your sweet lips, so soft, kiss and delight me! 
Your deeds, my heart surcharge with overjoying ; 
Your taunts my life destroying, 



30 Lyrics, Elegies, 8zc. fro m [^"- "^^pn/S. 

Since both have force to spill me. 

Let kisses sweet, kill me ! 
Knights fight with swords and lances : 

Fight you, with smiling glances ! 
So like the swans of Leander, 
My ghost from hence shall wander, 
Singing and dying. 




Las, what a wretched life is this ? 
Nay, what a death ? where tyrant Love commandeth. 
My flowering days are in their prime declining, 
All my proud hope quite fallen, and life untwining 
My joys, each after other, in haste are flying, 
And leave me dying 
For her that scorns my crying, 
O She from hence departs, my love refraining. 
For whom, all heartless, alas, I die complaining. 




Nkind ! stay thy flying ! 
And if I needs must die, pity me dying ! 

But in thee, my heart is lying ; . 

And no death can assail me, 

Alas, till life doth fail me I 
O therefore, if the Fates bid thee be fleeting ; 
Stay for me ! whose poor heart thou hast in keeping. 




Sang sometimes my Thought's and Fancy's pleasure. 

Where then I list, or time served best, and leisure, 

While Daphne did invite me 

To supper once, and drank to me to spite me. 

I smiled, yet still did doubt her, 

And drank where she had drunk before, to flout her; 

But O, while I did eye her. 

Mine eyes drunk Love ! my lips drank burning fire! 



^''^- ''^{pJn'l'j^l:] Madrigals, C a n z o n e t s , & c. 331 




jj]LoRA gave me fairest flowers, 

None so fair in Flora's treasure : 

These I placed on Phillis' bowers. 
She was pleased, and She my pleasure. 

Smiling meadows seem to say, 
Come, ye wantons, here to play ! 




Weet Love, if thou wilt gain a Monarch's glory, 
Subdue her heart, who makes me glad and sorry ! 
Out of thy golden quiver 
Take thou thy strongest arrow, 
That will through bone and marrow 
And me and thee, of grief and fear deliver. 
But come behind ! for if she look upon thee, 
Alas, poor Love ! then thou art woe begone thee ! 




Hen shall my wretched life give place to death? 
That my sad cares may be enforced to leave me. 
Come, saddest Shadow ! stop my vital breath ! 
For I am thine ! then let not Care bereave me 
Of thy sad thrall ! but with thy fatal dart, 
Kill Care and me, while Care lies at my heart ! 




F JOYS and pleasing pains, I, late, went singing ! 
(O pains with joys consenting!) 
And little thought as then, of now repenting. 
But now think of my then sweet-bitter stinging; 
All day long, I, my hands, alas, go wringing. 
The baleful notes of which my sad tormenting. 
Are Ruth and Moan, Frights, Sobs, and loud 

Lamenting 
From hills and dales, in my dull ears still ringing. 



332 



Lyrics, Elegies, &c. 



["Ed. byj. Wilbye. 
\_ April 1598. 



My throat is soar, my voice is hoarse with shrieking. 
My Rests are sighs deep from the heart-root fetched. 
My Song runs all on Sharps, and with oft striking 
Time on my breast, I shrink with hands outstretched : 
Thus still, and still I sing, and ne'er am linning ; 
For still the Close points to my first Beginning. 




RuEL, behold my heavy ending ! 
See, what you wrought, by your disdaining ! 
Causeless, I die. Love still attending 
Your hopeless pity of my complaining ! 
Suffer those eyes, which thus have slain me, 
With speed to end their killing power ! 
So shall you prove how love doth pain me. 
And see me die still your ! 




Hou art but young ! " thou sayest, 
" And Love's delight, thou weigh'st not." 
O take time, while thou may'st. 
Lest when thou would'st thou may'st not ! 
If Love shall then assail thee, 
A double double anguish will torment thee ! 
And thou wilt wish (but wishes all will fail thee !) : 
"0 me ! that I were young again ! " and so repent 
thee. 




IIy dost thou shoot, and I seek not to shield me? 
I yield, sweet Love ! Spare then my wounded liver! 
And do not make my heart thy arrows' quiver, 
O hold, what needs this shooting! when I yield me? 



FINIS. 



A 



ELATION 



OF THE 



great sufferings 

AND 

Strange adventures 

of HENRY PITMAN, 

Chirurgeon to the late Duke of Monmouth, 
containing an account 

. Of the Occasion of his being engaged in the Duke's service, z. Of his trial, con- 
demnation, and transportation to Barbadoes ; with the most severe and unchristian 
^ct made against him and his fellow sufferers, by the Governor and General Assembly 
of that island. 3. How he made his escape in a small open boat with some of his 
fellow-captives, namely, John Whicker, Peter Bagwell, William Woodcock, John 
Cooke, Jeremiah Atkins, &c. And how miraculously they were preserved on the sea. 

4. How they went ashoie on an uninhabitable island, where they met with some Priva- 
teers, that burnt their boat, and left them on that desolate place to shift for themselves. 

5. After what manner they lived there for about three months; until the said Henry 
Pitman was taken aboard a Privateer and at length arrived safe in England. 6. How 
his companions were received on board another Privateer, that was afterwards taken 
by the Spaniards, and they all made slaves : and how, after six months' captivity, they 
were delivered ; and returned to England also. 



Licensed, June 13th, 1689. 



London. Printed by Andrew Sowle : and are to be sold 

by John Taylor, at the sign of the Ship m 

Paul's Churchyard, 1689. 




A RELATION &c. 




S A necessary introduction to the following 
Relation, it will be convenient that I give 
account of the Occasion of my bein^^ en- 
ga,q;ed with the rest that went in to the 
Duke of MoxMOUTH ; and how far I was 
concerned in that action. 

Being, at that time, but newly returned 
^ from a voyage to Italy, I went to see 
my relations at Sandford in Somersetshire : where I had 
not been long, before the Duke landed at Lyme ; and mak- 
ing forwards, was advanced as far as Ilminster. Upon 
which, I was induced (partly out of my own curiosity, 
and partly by the importunity of some of my acquaintance) 
to go and see whether his strength and number were 
answerable to what the common rumour had spread abroad : 
and to that purpose, rode, accompanied by my brother and 
some other friends, to Taunton ; whither the Duke by this 
time was marching, with such forces as he had got together. 
After some stay there, having fully satisfied my curiosity, 
by a full view both of his person and his army ; I resolved to 
return home : and in order thereunto, 1 took the direct road 
back again, with a friend, who had the same intention as 
myself: but understanding, upon the road, that if we went 
forward, we should be certainly intercepted by the Lord of 
Oxford's Troop, then in our way ; we found ourselves, of 
necessity, obliged to retire back again to the Duke's lorces, 
till we could meet with a more safe and convenient oppor- 
tunity. 



2^6 Pitman doing Red Cross Society work. [,/];, 



Pitman. 

16C9. 



But, after some time, losing my horse, and no opportunity 
presenting itself; I was prevailed with, by the importunate 
desires of my friends and aquaintance then in the army, to 
stay and take care of the sick and wounded men. To which 
I was the rather induced, in regard I thought myself liable 
to the same punishment, should the Duke be defeated, as 
those who still remained in the army : but more especially, 
for that I saw many sick and wounded men miserably lament- 
ing the want of chirurgeons to dress their wounds. So that 
pity and compassion on my fellow creatures, more especially 
being my brethren in Christianity, obliged me to stay and 
perform the duty of my calling among them, and to assist my 
brother chirurgeons towards the relief of those that, otherwise, 
must have languished in misery ; though, indeed, there were 
many who did, notwithstanding our utmost care and diligence. 
Whose lives, perhaps, might have been preserved to this day, 
had we had a garrison wherein to have given them rest ; and 
not have been constrained, througii the cruelty and inhuman- 
ity of the King's soldiers, to expose their wounded and 
fractured limbs to the violent agitation and shogging of the 
carts, in our daily marches. 

But as I was never in arms myself, so neither was I want- 
ing in my care to dress the wounds of many of the King's 
soldiers, who were prisoners in the Duke's army : using the 
utmost of my care and skill for both. And thus I continued 
in full emploNment, dressing the wounded in the night-time 
and marching by day : till the fatal rout and overthrow of the 
whole army [at Scdgmoor on July 6, 16S5]. 

In my flight homewards, I was taken prisoner, and com- 
mited to Ilchester Gaol by Colonel Hellier ; in whose porch, 
I had my pockets rifled and my coat taken off my back, by 
my guard : and, in that manner, was hurried away to prison; 
where I remained, with many more under the same circum- 
stances, until the Assizes at Wells ; though, perhaps, there 
could not anything have been proved against most of us, to 
have done us much harm, had they not extorted confessions 
from us, by sending certain persons to the prisons where we 
were. 

\\'ho called us forth, one after another, and told us, that 
"the King was very gracious and merciful, and would 
cause none to be executed but such as had been Officers or 



lo^unlTes"!] T II E Bloody Assizes of the West, ^^y 

capital offenders : and therefore if we would render ourselves 
fit objects of the King's grace and favour, our only way was 
to give them an account where we went into the Duke's army, 
and in what capacity we served him, &c. Otherwise we 
must expect no mercy or favour from the King, who would 
certainly punish all such wilful and obstinate offenders." 

By which means, they drew us into the acknowledgement 
of our guilt, and our Examinations and Confessions were 
written and sent to the King, before the Lord Chief Justice 
Jeffries came to try us : so that he knew beforehand our 
particular crimes ; and likewise received orders from the King, 
as it is supposed, who, and what number to execute. 

But seeing our former Confessions were sufficient only to 
find the [True] Bill against us, by the Grand Jury ; and not 
to prove us " Guilty " ; the Petty Jury being obliged to give 
their verdict according to the evidence in Court : the Lord 
Chief Justice (fearing lest we should deny what we formerly 
confessed, and by that means, put them to the trouble of 
proving it against us) caused about twenty-eight persons at 
the Assizes at Dorchester, to be chosen from among the rest, 
against whom he knew he could procure evidence, and 
brought them first to their trial. Who pleaded " Not 
Guilty " ; but evidence being produced, they were immediately 
condemned, and a warrant signed for their execution the 
same afternoon. 

The sudden execution of these men so affrightened the rest, 
that we all, except three or four, pleaded " Guilty " in hopes 
to save our lives : but not without large promises of the 
King's grace and favour. For the Lord Chief Justice told us 
that " if we would acknowledge our crimes, by pleading Guilty 
to our Indictment, the King, who was almost all mercy III, 
would be as ready to forgive us as we were to rebel against 
him ; yea, as ready to pardon us, as we would be to ask it 
of him." 

And now was that common saying verified, " Confess, and be 
hanged ! " For, notwithstanding his large promises of grace 
and favour, we were all condemned " to be hanged, drawn, 
and quartered." And by his order, there were two hundred 
and thirty executed ; besides a great number hanged imme- 
diately after the Fight. 

The rest of us were ordered to be transported to the 

£ac. Car. VII, o'y 



33STlIET\VO PlTMANS SOLD AS WlIITE SlAVES. [lo^uriTos"! 

Caribbee Islands. And in order thereunto, my brother and I, 
with nearly a hundred more, were given to Jeremiah Nepho ; 
and by him, sold to George Penne, a needy Papist, that 
wanted money to pay for our transportation, and therefore 
was very importunate with my relations, to purchase mine 
and my brother's freedom. 

Which my relations, at first, were unwilling to do, having 
no assurance of his performing Articles at such a distance; 
and therefore thought it best to defer it until we came to 
Barbadoes, or otherwise to agree to pay him as soon as they 
should receive an account of our being set free. But this 
not satisfying him, having present occasion of money, he 
threatened that if they would not pay him now, he would give 
orders to his brother-in-law at Barbadoes, that our freedom 
should not be sold us after we came there : but that he should 
treat us with more rigour and severity than others. 

With these threats, on the one hand ; and promises of 
particular favour on the other: he, at length, prevailed with 
our relations to give him ;£"6o, upon condition that we should 
be free when we came to Barbadoes ; only owning some person, 
whom we should think fit to nominate, as a titular Master. 
And in case that these, with other conditions, were not per- 
formed ; the said George Penne was bound with his brother 
John Penne, in a bond of ^^120, to pay the ^TGo back again. 

And thus we may see the buying and selling of free men 
into slavery, was beginning again to be renewed among Chris- 
tians, as if that heathenish custom had been a necessary 
dependence on Arbitrary Power. 

And in order to our transportation, we were removed to 
Weymouth, and shipped on board a vessel that belonged to 
London : which, in a few days, sailed for Barbadoes, where 
we arrived in about five weeks' time ; but had a very sickly 
passage, insomuch that nine of my companions were buried 
in the sea. 

We had not been many days in Barbadoes, before the 
Governor [Edward Steed] of the said island summoned the 
General Assembly, who welcomed us with the following in- 
christian and inhuman Act, 




j^uriTes"] Severe Actoftue Barbadoes Assemuly. 339 

An Act for the governing and retaining within this island ^ 
all such rebels convict, as by His most sacred Majesty's 
Order or Permit, have been, or shall be transported from 
his European dominion to this place. 

\H ERE AS a most horrid, wicked, and execrable Rebellion 
was lately raised and prosecuted within His Majesty's 
Dominions, by James Scot, late Dnke of Mon- 
mouth, and Archibald Campbell, late Earl of 
Argyle, and their traitorous complices, with intent 
to destroy His Majesty^s most sacred Person and Royal Family, 
to overthrow his Crown and Government, and to render his 
Dominions the theatres of blood and misery. In prevention 
whereof, it hath pleased the Divine Providence {which is ever 
pecidiarly watchful to guard the thrones of Princes) to accompany 
His Majesty's coimsel and arms with such success and victory 
that the said rebels and traitors were utterly defeated : for which 
impious fact, many of them have since deservedly suffered the pains 
of death, according to law ; which the rest were liable imto, being 
equally guilty of those barbarous crimes, and must have under- 
gone, but that His Majesty, in his Princely and unparalleled grace 
and clemency, hath been pleased to extend his mercy in sparing the 
lives of several thousands of them, by commuting the execution of 
their sentence into a Temporary Service in his A merican Colonics, 
A nd forasmuch as His sacred Majesty hath signified it, as his royal 
pleasure, that the said rebels or so many of them as should be trans- 
ported to his said American colonics, should be there held and 
obliged to serve the Buyers of them, for and during the space of Ten 
Years at least ; and that they be not permitted in any manner 
whatsoever, to redeem themselves by money or otherwise, imtil that 
time be fidly expired. 

Therefore, We, His Majesty's most dutiful and loyal subjects, his 
Lieutenant Governor, Council, and General Assembly of this His 
Majesty's said island, taking the premises into our serious considera- 
tion; and being zealous, to render all due and ready obedience to His 
Majesty's comnmnd, as also to make apparent with how great abhor- 
rence and detestation, we resent the said late wicked inhuman and 
damnable Rebellion, and all those that were promoters and actors 
therein, have thought it becoming our duty to Enact : and it is 
hereby Enacted by the Right Honourable Edward Steed 
Esquire, Lieutenant Governor and Commander in Chief of this 



34oSevere Act of the Barbadoes Assembly. [lo^uriTesg! 

and other the Caribbce Islands, the Honourable the Council, and 
General Assembly of this island, and authority of the same : 
That what person or persons soever were gtulty of the aforesaid 
Rebellion, and have been therefore convict[cd], which either 
already have been, or hereafter shall be brought to this island ; 
either by His Majesty's order or permit for the purpose afore- 
said, shall be held compelled and obliged to serve and obey 
the Owner or Purchaser of him or them, in their plantations 
within this island, in all such labour or service as they shall 
be commanded to perform and do by their Owners, Masters, 
or Mistresses, or their Overseers, for the full time and term of 
Ten Years from the day of their landing, and disposed of fully 
to be completed and ended ; any bargain, law, usage or custom 
in this island to the contrary, in any wise, notwithstanding. 
And to the intent that no disobedience may be suffered or done 
upon His Majesty's said Orders and Expectations concerning the 
said rebels convict[ed], but that they may become fully liable unto 
and bear the aforesaid mark of their monstrous villainy. It is 
further Enacted : 

That if any Master of a ship. Importer, Owner, Master or 
Purchaser of any of the said rebels aforesaid, shall acquit, 
release, or discharge them or any of them, or permit them 
or any of them to redeem themselves by money or other re- 
ward or recompense or consideration whatsoever, respecting 
cither themselves or the said rebels convict[ed], before the term 
of Ten Years' Service in iliis island as aforesaid, be fully 
completed and ended ; or shall connive at or assist unto their, 
or any of their removes, withdrawings, or escapings from off 
this island : the Party or Parties so offending herein shall 
therefore forfeit and pay unto His Majesty his heirs and 
successors, the sum of Two Hundred Pounds [ = ;;^500 novvj ster- 
ling for each, or every one of the said rebels, which by him 
or them shall be cither acquitted, released, discharged, or per- 
mitted to be redeemed; or connived at or assisted unto a 
remove, withdrawing, or escaping off this island before the 
full Old of the Term aforesaid : over and above the value or 
reco>npcnsc for which it was permitted or done ; and further 
shall suffer imprisonment in the common gaol of this island 
for the space and term of One whole Year icithout bail or 
nuiinprize : and be for ever thereafter uncapable of bearing 
any Public Office within this island. 



lo^uriTes":] Severe Actof the Barbadoes Assembly. 341 

A nd it is hereby further Enacted and ordained by the A uthority 

aforesaid : 

That if one or more of the aforesaid Servants [i.e., Slaves] or 
rebels convict[ed\, shall attempt, endeavour, or contrive to make 
his or their escape from off this island before the said Term 
of Ten Years be fidly complete[d] and ended ; such Servant 
or Servants, for his or their so attempting or endeavouring to 
make escape, shall, upon proof thereof made to the Governor, 
receive, by his warrant, Thirty-nine lashes on his bare body, 
on some public day, in the next market toicn to his Master's 
place of abode : and, on another market day in the same 
town, be set in the pillory, by the space of one hour ; and 
he burnt in the forehead with the letters F. T. signifying 
Fugitive Traitor, so as the letters may plainly appear in his 
forehead. B tit for all other misdemeanours and miscarriages, 
they shall be prosecuted and punished according to the laws 
of this island, provided for the governing of other Servants. 
And to the end the said convict rebels may be the better known 

and distinguished ; it is hereby further Enacted and Ordained : 

That, within eight days after the arrival of any ship or vessel to 
this island, in which any of the said convict rebels are 
broiight, the Master of the said ship shall deliver to the 
Governor, and into the Secretary's Ojfce of this island, a 
true list or catalogue of those names, upon oath; and the 
Merchant or Merchants to whom they come consigned, or 
who have the disposal of them, shall also, within eight days 
after finishing the Sale, give imto the said Office a just 
account of the persons' names to whom they were sold and 
disposed of: and in case of failure herein, the same shall 
forfeit to the King his heirs and successors, the sum of Two 
Hundred Pounds sterling ; and the Merchant or Merchants 
shall forfeit in like manner, the stem of Two Hundred 
Pounds sterling. 

And for such of the said convict rebels as have been already im- 
ported, before the making and publishing of this Act, the 
Master and Merchant of such vessels are hereby required 
forthwith to deliver to the Secretary, such list or catalogue 
as aforesaid, upon penalty of the like forfeiture : which said 
list or catalogue, the said Secretary is required to receive, 
and write out fairly, and cause to be hung up in his Office, 
that all persons concerned nuiy have free recourse thereto. 



342 Severe ^cr OF the Barp.adoes Assembly. [lo^juriTesg: 

A nd in case the first Buyer shall sell or assipi over any such rebel or 
rebels convict, to any other inhabitant or inhabitants of this 
island, the Vendor is hereby required to give notice thereof to 
the Secretary, to the end the name or names of such Servant 
or Servants may be chan{!;ed in the Secretary's Office, from 
the first, to the second or other purchaser or assigns, [that they] 
may stand charged as the first. 
And in case of the death of any of the Servants aforesaid, it is 

hereby further Enacted : 

That the present Owner, shall, within fourteen days, make, or cause 
oath to be made, before the next or some Justice of the Peace, of 
the name and death of such Servant, and that he really was 
in the Record, and not another of the same name; that by 
means of the certificate sent to the Secretary's Office, the Sec- 
retary may charge him, Dead. 

And if any Owners or Vendors shall fail, in either of the cases 
aforesaid, he or they shall forfeit to His Majesty his heirs 
and successors, the sum of Twenty five Pounds sterling : and 
for the Secretary's pains therein, and also in case of changing 
Masters and Mistresses, the Secretary may receive for such 
person dead or assigned over, Six Pence, and no more. 
A nd to the end, none of the Servants or convict rebels may remove 

or escape from this island, by obtaining Tickets tmder wrong 

names, or other fraudulent or illegal methods of this kind ; it is 

hereby fnrtlier Enacted and Ordained by the Authority aforesaid : 

That all Justices of the Peace that shall hereafter take Affidavits 
(to be sent to the Secretary's Office) for persons that design to 
go off this island, shall always express and insert in those 
Affidavits, that the person so going off, and desiring aTicket, 
is not one of these Servants and convict rebels : without which, 
the Secretary is hereby forbidden to grant or produce a Ticket. 

And the Secretary is also required to use the same method in 
such Affidavits as shall be taken before himself, under the 
penalty of forfeiting to His Majesty his heirs and successors, 
the sum of Two Hundred Pounds sterling, for his neglect in 
cither of these cases. 

And whosoever obtaining a Ticket lawfully out of the Secre- 
tary's Office, being of the name of any of those rebels, or 
otherwise, and shall permit any of the said rebels of that 
name, or others, to have such Tickets, by zchich he may be in 
a probable way of /ma king his escape ojf this island, shall 



lo^mfe'Tesg:] Severe Actovtue Barbadoes Assembly. 343 

forfeit to the use of our Sovereign Lord the King his heirs 
and successors, the sum of One Hundred Pounds sterling, if 
he he able to pay the same ; and also suffer imprisonment in 
the common gaol, by the space of six months, without bail or 
mainprize. The said commitment to be made, and execution 
to be levied, by Warrant from the Governor, upon proof 
made before him, by two witnesses, or one witness with preg- 
nant circumstances. But in case such persons be uncapable 
to make payment of such forfeiture, he is hereby ordered to lie 
in prison during the space of six months, and be set once in 
the pillory, by the space of two hours at a time, in each of the 
four market towns of this island, on four several days. 
And for the encouragement of all such as shall inform or discover 
any false, fraudulent, or wicked practice of this kind ; it is hereby 
Enacted : 

That One Fifth part of all forfeits in the Act mentioned, shall be 
to the use and benefit of such Informers. 
And to the end the restraint continuing and holding the said rebels 
convict within this island, during the Term aforesaid, may be the 
[more] effectually and fully secured and provided fur ; ami also for 
preventing the Servants, Slaves, and Debtors of this island from 
running off, by which some have perished in the sea ; it is hereby 
further Enacted and Ordained, by the Authority aforesaid : 
That every Owner or Keeper of any small vessel, sloop, shallop, 
wherry, fishing-boat, or any other sort of boat belonging to 
this island, shall, within twenty days after publication hereof, 
give into the Secretary's Office of this island, [security] in 
the sum of Two Hundred Pounds sterling {excepting the 
small boats and wherries, who are to enter in the sum of Ten 
Pounds sterling), that he will not convey or carry off from 
this island any of the aforesaid rebels convict, or any other 
person that hath not a lawful Ticket; or will permit, suffer, 
or consent to the same : but will use his utmost skill, care, 
and diligence in securing and guarding his small vessel, 
sloop, shallop, or boat, in such manner as may most probably 
prevent the escapes of such fugitives. 
And if any Owner or Keeper of such small vessel, sloop, shallop, 
or boat shall hereafter make sale, change, or any other 
alienation thereof, without first giving notice in the Sec- 
retary's Office, that new security may be taken tJicn : such 
vessel, shallop, or boat, shall be forfeited to Uis Majcsly his 



344 Severe Act of the Barbadoes Assembly. [,„"^, 



Pitman, 
ne 1639. 



heirs and successors; and the Vendor to be further obliged to 
put in security to answer all damages that may happen, by 
reason of such sale, before security so given. 

And the like method and forfeitures is hereby required and 
appointed unto Masters of ships, in case they shall sell or dis- 
pose of any boat to any of the inhabitants of this island. 

And whosoever shall hereafter build or set tip in this island, 
any small vessel, sloop, shallop, or boat, shall, when 
he or they build the same, enter into the security aforesaid, 
under the penalty of forfeiting the materials thereof to His 
Majesty his heirs and successors. 
And be it further ordained and Enacted: 

That the Secretary shall have and receive for the Bond and Cer- 
tificate for wherries, fishing-boats, and other small boats, only 
Fifteen Pence ; and for all other vessels of greater bulk, 
Five Shillings each, as has been customary. 
And it is further Enacted by the Authority aforesaid : 

That it sJiall be Felony in every Master of every shallop, sloop, 
wherry, or other boat belonging to this island, that runneth 
away with any shallop, sloop, wherry, or other boat which 
they command [although such boats should be their own 
property ! ]. 
And it is further Enacted by the Authority aforesaid : 

That if any woman in this island, Owner or Mistress of any such 
convict rebels, by any means whatsoever, shall intermarry 
with any of the said convict rebels, whereby the said rebels 
may become free from their servitude ; or suffer or consent 
to the marriage of their daughters or other near relations, by 
which such Servant is freed, connived at, or eased from his 
servitude aforesaid : that upon notice thereof given to the 
Governor and Council, of such marriage or marriages, such 
rebel or rebels shall, notwithstanding, be, by the Governor and 
Council ordered to serve the remainder of his time to some 
other person, whom the Governor and Council shall think fit ; 
and the woman so marrying as aforesaid, is to forfeit to our 
Sovereign Lord the King his heirs or assigns, the sunt of 
Two Hundred Pounds sterling, and suffer Six Months' im- 
prisonment for such her intermarrying with any of the said 
rebels convict. 
And, lastly, it is Enacted by the Authority aforesaid: 

That the Act be published by the Ministers of the several parishes 



io"junlT689.] Condition of White Slaves at Barbadoes. 345 

in this island, in their several parish churches, once in every 
six months from the date hereof, upon such penalty as the 
Governor and Council for the time being, shall think fit to 
impose on the person so neglecting to publish the same. 
Given under my hand, the Fourth day of January, 1685 [-6], 

Edward Steed. 

But to return to my discourse 

We were consigned to Charles Thomas and his Company, 
with particular orders and instructions from George Penne 
not to sell me or my brother, but permit us to make choice 
of some person to own as a titular Master. However, they 
were so unkind, they would not allow us that Hberty ; but 
compelled us, contrary to our desires and inclinations, to live 
with one Robert Bishop: pretending that they had not 
absolutely sold us to him; but could remove us again, in 
case we disliked our place. 

And that the before-mentioned George Penne might not 
be obliged to repay the money we gave him ; they told us, we 
should have the yearly salary of £20, which they were to 
receive for our service. 

But these pretences were only to amuse us, for afterwards 
when we were constrained, by the great unkindness of our 
Master, to address ourselves unto them, not only in person, 
but also by many importunate and affectionate letters, intreat- 
ing them to use their utmost endeavour and Interest with our 
Master, in order to remove us ; we found it in vain : for they 
had positively sold us, and also given it in, on their oaths, 
at the Secretary's Office. 

When our Master perceived that we were uneasy, and un- 
willing to serve him ; he grew more and more unkind unto us, 
and would not give us any clothes, nor me any benefit of my 
practice, whereby to enable me to provide for myself : for I 
was obliged to give him an account of what physic 1 admi- 
nistered out of his plantation, and he received the money for 
the same. 

Our diet was very mean. 5 lbs. of salt Irish beef, or salt 
fish, a week, for each man ; and Indian or Guinea Corn 
[maize] ground on a stone, and made into dumplings instead of 
bread. 



546 H. Pitman a Slave, though a Surgeon. [,„"-, 



Pitmnn. 
une 1689. 



Which coarse and mean fare brought me to a violent flux 
[diarrlicca], insomuch that 1 was forced to complain to my 
Master, desiring him to allow me some flour, instead of 
Indian corn, to make dumplings withal ; and humbly 
recommended to his consideration my Profession and practice, 
which I hoped would render me deserving of better accommo- 
dation than was usually allowed to other Servants. 

But he, not moved with pity, angrily replied, " I should 
not have so good 1 " 

Whose unkind answer moved me so, that I had the confi- 
dence to tell him that " I would no longer serve him, nor any 
other, as a Surgeon, unless I were entertained according to 
the just merits of my Profession and practice ; and that I 
would choose rather to work in the field with the Negroes than 
to dishonour my Profession by serving him as Physician and 
Surgeon, and to accept the same entertainment as common 
Servants." 

My angry Master, at this, was greatly enraged, and the 
fiery zeal of his immoderate passion was so heightened by 
some lying stories of a fellow Servant, that he could not 
content himself with the bare execution of his cane upon my 
head, arms, and back, although he played so long thereon, like 
a furious fencer, until he had split it in pieces ; but he also 
confined me close prisoner in the Stocks (which stood in an 
open place), exposed to the scorching heat of the sun ; where 
I remained about twelve hours, until my Mistress, moved 
either with pity or shame, gave order for my release. 

It would be too tedious to give a particular account of 
the many other abuses and unkindnesses we received at his 
hands; and therefore it shall suffice to say, that in this con- 
dition we lived with him about fifteen months [to about April, 
1687], until by his debauched and extravagant course of life, 
he had run himself so extremely in debt, and particularly 
to those merchants that sold us to him, that he could not 
well pay for us. For which reason, we were removed from 
him ; but the merchants were forced to remit the money 
due for our service, before he would return us. 

And now, being returned again, we remained in the 
merchants' hands, as goods unsold ; and because I would 
not consent to be disposed of, at their pleasure ; they threat- 
ened to horsewhip mc and put me tu servile employment. 



lo^une'rs"".] Death of Pitman's brother. 347 

But we had not been long here, before my brother died, 
and I being wearied with long and fruitless expectation of 
my Pardon ; and no less perplexed and tired with the great 
abuses I had received at their hands, resolved to attempt the 
making of my escape from off the island : to which purpose, 
after several contrivances and ways that came into my head, 
and those well weighed with the consequent circumstances 
that possibly I could foresee ; I concluded at length to proceed 
after this manner. 

Being introduced by a friend into the acquaintance of 
one John Nuthall [Not a White Slave, but a Debtor, seep. 355I, 
a carver; whose condition was somewhat mean, and therefore 
one that wanted money to carry him off the island : I 
imparted my design unto him, and employed him to buy a 
boat of a Guiney Man [a ship trading to Guinea] that lay in 
the road ; promising him for his reward, not only his passage 
free, and money for his present expenses, but to give him 
the boat also, when we arrived at our port. 

By the way, it is to be understood, that the means which 
enabled me to defray these extraordinary expenses, was a 
private consignation [consignment] of goods from my relations, 
to a particular friend in the island ; who took care to dispose 
of them for me. 

John Nuthall therefore readily consented to what I 
proposed ; and after I had enjoined him to secresy, I delivered 
him ;£'i2 to buy the boat; which accordingly he did, and 
gave in security for the same at the Secretary's Office, 
conformable to the custom and laws of the island. Never- 
theless all that would not prevent the jealousy of the magis- 
trates, that sprang from the consideration of his poverty, and 
the little service they knew the boat would do him. 

Whereupon, they sent for John Nuthall, and strictly 
commanded him to discover who it was that had employed 
him to buy the boat ; and threatened to put him to his oath. 
Nevertheless, they could get nothing out of him, for the man 
had so much courage that he confidently denied that any 
person had employed him ; but that he bought the boat 
merely for his own use. Yet was not all this sufficient. 
They still threatened to seize the boat, unless he gave in 
better security. Upon which, he came to me, to advise what 
it were best to be done. I ordered him forthwith to sink the 



348 Pitman prepares to escape. [^J] 



Pitman, 
une i68g. 



boat : which as it very much abated the suspicion of the 
Magistrates, so it secured the boat from seizure. 

While these things were in agitation, one of John Nut- 
hall's creditors, to whom he owed £y for tools, threatened to 
arrest him, unless he paid him down the money ; which was 
no small surprise to a man that had no money to make his 
payment : however, having a day's respite to procure satis- 
faction, he came and told me, that ** Unless I would supply 
him with money to pay his debt, necessity would constrain 
him to discover my design." So that, well knowing the 
danger I was in, I was forced to supply him. 

And here, I must not omit to relate, that, by this time, I 
had discovered my design to two of my acquaintance under 
the same circumstances [i.e., White Slaves], Thomas Austin 
and John Whicker; who readily agreed to be my com- 
panions, and gave me what money they could well spare, to 
help to carry on the design : but I myself was the chief 
contriver and manager of the whole, having more time and 
liberty than they. For I usually met John Nuthall every 
night, at some convenient place remote from the town by 
the sea side ; where, after we had consulted together, he 
took his instructions how to proceed. 

In this interval of time, the boat being sunk, and by that 
means, the suspicion of the Magistrates quite over ; John 
NuTHALL'sdebt being paid, and he again secured to secresy : 
we began to think of providing necessaries for our intended 
voyage ; which, as they occurred to my thoughts, I set them 
down, that so nothing might be forgotten. Which take as 
followeth. A hundredweight of bread, a convenient quantity 
of cheese, a cask of water, some few bottles of Canary and 
Madeira wine and beer; these being for the support of 
Nature : and then for use, a compass, quadrant, chart, half- 
hour glass, half-minute glass, log and line, large tarpaulin, 
a hatchet, hammer, saw and nails, some spare boards, a 
lantern and candles. All which were privately conveyed to 
a friend's house, not far from the water side, to be in a 
readiness against the time. 

Which after 1 had bethought myself; who besides, to make 
choice of for my companions was the next thing to be con- 
sidered of ; but that a lucky chance, after a short expectation, 
presented itself to us. 



io"une*^'s":] Dreadful fright when embarking. 349 

For within few daj-s the Governor of Mevis puttinj^ in at 
the Barbadoes ; the Governor, for his more noble entertain- 
ment, caused the Militia of the town to be in arms : which 
was attended with revelling, drinking, and feasting to excess; 
the consequence of which, I easily conjectured would be 
drowsy security and carelessness. 

This time, I therefore thought most proper for our in- 
tended enterprise ; and gave notice thereof to my in- 
tended companions (most of whom I kept ignorant of my 
design until now, fearing it should by any means be dis- 
covered) : and ordered them not to carr}' home their arms, 
but to bring them, after it was night, to a certain storehouse 
by the wharf; where I designed to put to sea. The store- 
house was then under the care of John Whicker, one of my 
confederates ; and therefore a most happy convenience to 
conceal both them and their arms, till it was time to sail. 

In the meantime, John Nuthall employed tv/o lusty 
blacks to empty the water out of our skiff, and set her 
afloat ; and then brought her to the wharf before the store- 
house : whither by this time, we had conveyed our neces- 
saries ; keeping the blacks within the storehouse, that they 
might have no opportunity to discover our design. 

About II o'clock at night [gth May, 1687], thinking it time 
to embark in our small vessel, we assigned one of our com- 
pany to stand sentry at the head of the wharf, to give us 
notice if the Watch should happen to come that way ; and 
then, with all speed, we put our provisions and necessaries 
aboard : which we had no sooner done, but we had an 
alarm that the Watch was approaching to the head of the 
wharf. A misfortune which so surprised us, that we all, of 
an instant, betook ourselves to our heels. And I, for my own 
part, soon recovered a friend's house, giving all for lost ; sup- 
posing my companions were fallen into the enemy's hands. 

But whilst I was condoling my misfortune to my friend, 
and giving him a lamentable account of our attempt and 
discovery ; and also consulting whether to retire in the 
country, to lie dormant if possible till some better opportunity 
offered itself, I heard a person at the window inquiring for me. 

At first, I was in a dreadful fear, lest it was one of the 
Watch in quick pursuit after me : but knowing him, by his 
voice to be one of my companions, I gladly received the 



350 T II E E s c A r E of eight in a boat. \_J] 



Pitman, 
uut; 16S9. 



account he gave me. Which was, that the Watch came 
only to call up one of their number, that was to watch with 
them that night ; and then went away, without taking the 
least notice of the boat. 

However, I was so disheartened by this unlucky accident, 
that I was altogether unwilling to make a second attempt, 
till at length overruled by the importunity of my friend ; more 
especially when he told me that they all waited for me, 
and could not go without me, for none of them had any 
skill in navigation. So, considering the baseness of dis- 
appointing so many persons, whom I had engaged in so 
much danger ; I resolved, once more, to hazard a burnt 
forehead and sore back : and going with him to the water 
side, I found my companions by the boat, waiting for me, 
and not a little glad to see me come again. 

Then we put the Negroes into the storehouse, charging 
them not to stir forth or make any noise till the morning : 
and to encourage them to be faithful to us, I gave them 
three Half-Pieces of Eight [ = 6s. = i85. now] for their good 
service. 

This done, and thus delivered from our fears, we embarked 
in our small vessel ; being in number eight, viz., John 
Whicker, Peter Bagwell, William Woodcock, John 
Cooke, Jeremiah Atkins, and myself, which were Sufferers 
on the account of the Duke of Monmouth : the other two 
were John Nuthall, who bought the boat for me, and 
Thomas Waker. Thomas Austin, of whom I formerly 
spake, was so possessed with fear of being cast away, that he 
would not go with us. 

About midnight, we put off to sea, designing for Curagoa, 
a Dutch island that lies about 200 leagues thence : for we 
durst not go to any English island, for fear we should be 
taken and sent back. 

We rowed softly forward, within a pistol's shot of the 
Fort ; and there lay at that time, a man-of-war in the road : 
which made us not a little afraid of being discovered by those 
watchful enemies ; but Providence so ordered it, that we 
passed both without discovery. 

However, by the time that we were got clear of the Fort and 
the shipping, our boat being so extremely leaky, had taken 
in so much water, that we were almost ready to sink ; not 



lo^uriTesy'.] Steering by the stars, or the wind. 351 

daring to heave it out before, for fear of making a noise to 
alarm our enemies. 

But having the conveniency of a tub and a large wooden 
bowl ; we now fell to work, and in a little time, we pretty 
well emptied our boat : and then we set our mast, and hoisted 
our sail, and steered our course south-west as near as I could 
judge, intending to make the Great Grenada. Our candles 
being bruised into one mass of tallow, and our tinder and 
matches being wet, we could not strike a light to steer by 
our compass; neither indeed had we any candles lighted for 
the same reason, during our whole voyage: so that, in the 
night, we were forced to steer by the stars; and when it was 
cloudy, by the wind. 

That which troubled us most was the leakiness of our little 
vessel. For although we endeavoured all we could to stop 
her gaping seams with our linen and all the lags we had, 
which we tallowed with our bruised candles: yet she was so 
thin, so feeble, so heavily ladened, and wrought [laboured] so 
exceedingly by reason of the great motion of the sea, that we 
could not possibly make her tight, but were forced to keep 
one person almost continually, day and night, to throw out 
the water, during our whole voyage. 

The same night, most of my companions were so sea-sick, 
that notwithstanding we were all ready to sink, I could hard 
persuade them to throw out the water; and my place being 
at the helm, to guide and govern the boat, I could not safely 
go thence. However, at length, through great importunity 
and earnest persuasions, I prevailed with them to take a little 
pains to preserve us from drowning. My companions now 
began to wish themselves at Barbadoes again ; and would 
willingly have returned : but I told them there was no 
possibility of it, being so far to the leeward of the island. 

One of them, through carelessness in heaving out the 
water, threw over our wooden bowl ; and we running away 
with a large [full] wind, could not go back to take it up ; so 
that we had nothing left to throw out the water with, but our 
tub ; which obliged them to be more careful of it, for our lives 
were concerned therein. 

May the loth L1687], in the morning, we were got almost 
out of sight of the island ; at least far enough from being 
descried from thence. And perceiving no sort of vessel in 



352 S A I L I N G AWAY FROM S L A V E R Y . [xo^unl'lcag: 

pursuit of us, we began to be cheered up with the thoughts 
of our liberty, and the hopes of our safe arrival at our desired 
port. 

But then, alas, the night no sooner approached, but we 
were assailed with a brisk gale of wind ; under which mis- 
fortune, another worse befel us, that we split our rudder so 
that we were forced to lower our sail, and with an oar to keep 
our boat before the sea, whilst one of my company, a joiner, 
mended our helm by nailing to it two pieces of boards. That 
done, we went cheerily on again. 

May the nth, we had indifferent good weather. My 
companions being pretty well recovered of their sea-sickness, 
we now had time to put things in a better posture in our 
boat ; and to raise her, which we did by nailing on tarpolings 
[iarpaulings] from her sides to our oars that were lashed fast 
about nine inches above, which did us good service in keeping 
out the sea. We likewise made a tilt [awni)io^\ with a 
hammock over the hinder part of our boat, to defend us from 
the scorching heat of the sun. 

May the 12th. This morning, notwithstanding we steered 
south-west, to weather the Great Grenada, the current had 
set us so much to the northward, that we made the Grena- 
dilloes to bear west of us : which obliged us to steer more 
southerly to weather the Great Grenada. 

May the 13th. The last night, we weathered the Great 
Grenada, and steered down the south side of the same ; and 
then shaped our course for the Testigos. For I could not 
take any true observation by my quadrant, because of the 
uneven motion of the sea, and the nearness of the sun to the 
zenith, and therefore was constrained to steer a course from 
island to island, though the further way about. 

May the 14th. We had fair weather, and a fresh gale of 
wind; and about noon, as I remember, we made the Testigos, 
bearing south-south-west; and before night, made the north- 
east end of the Margarita. 

But, by this time, being so extremely spent for want of 
sleep, having been obliged for the most part, night and day, 
to steer the boat ; I was desirous to take a little rest : but 
first I directed one of my companions how to steer down by 
the said island ; and then composed myself to sleep. 

In which interval of time, my companions eagerly longing 



lo^unlTeSg.] Two REMARKABLE ESCAPES FROM PERIL. 353 

for fresh water, in regard ours stank so extremely as it did, 
stood in for the land ; and lowered the sail, desi<:;ning to go 
ashore. At which time, I happily [by chance] awoke ; and 
apprehending the great danger of falling into the hands of 
the Indians, who had already kindled a hre on the shore not 
far from us, I caused the sail again to be hoisted up, and 
hasted away with all expedition : and being favoured with a 
brisk gale of wind, we soon got out of fear or danger of those 
savage cannibals. 

May the 15th. We had fair weather, and very pleasant 
sailing down the north side of this island [Margarita]. But 
when we had got about the middle of the island, my com- 
panions were no less importunate than before, to go ashore 
for fresh water. To which I, at length, consented, partly 
because I saw that part of the island free from inhabitants, 
and partly enticed by the fair appearance of a sandy bay and 
that the water seemed so smooth that I thought we could 
not injure our boat by running her ashore, in regard we had 
neither anchor nor grapling to ride her off. 

But, contrary to our expectations, and to our great sur- 
prisal, we found the ground near the shore extremely foul; 
and the sea heaved us so fast in, that we could not possibly 
have avoided being split on the rocks, had not I leaped into 
the sea to fend her off, which whilst I laboured to do with 
my feet against the rock till I was almost spent, my com- 
panions with their two oars rowed her off. At which, our 
hearts were filled with joy, and our mouths with praises to 
the LOIvD, who had so wonderfully preserved us from being 
cast away on this island : where probably we must either 
have been starved ourselves, or have become food for those 
inhuman man-eaters. 

From the west end of this island, we directed our course 
for Saltatudos ; but that afternoon, the wind increased, and a 
white ring encircled the moon, which I thought presaged ill 
weather, and to our great sorrow, proved too true. For about 
nine at night, a dreadful storm arose, which made us despair 
of ever seeing the morning sun. And now the sea began lo 
foam, and to turn its smooth surface into mountains and 
vales. Our boat was tossed and tumbled from one side to 
the other; and so violently driven and hurried away by the 
fury of the wind and sea, that I was afraid we should be 

Eng. Gar. VII. 23 



154 Safe arrival at Tortuga. [J]-^ 



Pitman, 
ue 1689. 



driven by the island in the night-time : and therefore we 
brought our boat to, with her head against the sea : but the 
wind and sea still increasing, we were forced to bear up before 
it, with only sail sufficient to give her steerage way. 

And now, in vain we began to wish ourselves at the 
Barbadoes again, or (which was worse) on that island on 
which we were so lately like to have been wrecked, believing 
that a misery then which now we should have thought a 
happiness, and that which confirmed us the more in the cer- 
tainty of our approaching ruin, was an unexpected voice, 
which (to our thinking) seemed to hallow [holloa] to us at a 
great distance. But the Omnipotent (who is never unmindful 
of the cries of his people in distress) heard our prayers; so 
that when all our hopes were given over, and we had resigned 
ourselves into his hands, expecting every moment when the 
wide gaping sea would devour and swallow us up : GOD, of 
his infinite mercy and unspeakable goodness, commanded 
the violence of the winds to cease, and allayed the fury of the 
raging waves. Eternal praises to his Name for evermore ! 

May the i6th. This morning, at break of day, we saw the 
island of Saltatudos just before us, and when it was suffi- 
ciently light, that we could discern how the land lay, we 
steered down the north side of it, intending to go ashore at 
some convenient place to refresh ourselves after that dread- 
ful storm, and to take on board some fresh water, and if 
possible to stop the leaks of our boat, in order to proceed in 
our voyage for Curayoa : and accordingly, when we came to 
the leeward of a small island hard by the other, we stood in 
directly for the shore, thinking it a convenient place to land. 
Which we had no sooner done, but we saw a canoe coming 
thence, directing her course towards us. At which sight, 
being a little surprised, my companions provided their arms, 
and charged their muskets and blunderbusses with glass 
bottles : for we coming from Barbadoes in so great a hurry 
and fear ; through forgetfulness they left their bag of bullets 
on the wharf. 

Wiien they were come somewhat nearer, that we could 
perceive them to paddle like Indians, we bore up and were 
running from them. 

Which as soon as they perceived, they waved their hats 
and hailed us ; by w hich we knew they were not Indians as 



lo^unlTasg.] T HEY FI N D 26 P RI VATE ERS THERE. 355 

we supposed: and therefore we permitted them to come 
nearer, and perceiving them to be white men, we enquired 
" What they were ? " 

They told us, " They were Enghshmen in distress, &c., 
and waited for an opportunity to go off the island." 

The account we gave them of ourselves was very short 
That we came from one of the Windward islands : by which, 
they supposed we had fled for debt ; and should have con- 
tinued in that belief, had not Thomas Waker, one of my 
companions, privately informed them. That there were only 
he and John Nuthall that were debtors: the rest of us 
being rebels : for he thought thereby to ingratiate himself 
and friend in their friendship. 

But these privateers, for so they were, as we afterwards 
understood, hated them the more for their treachery ; and 
loved us the better, confessing that they were rebels too, 
adding that "if the Duke of Monmouth had had 1,000 of 
them, they would soon have put to flight the King's army." 

But to proceed. When we came to the shore, the 
privateers assisted us to haul up our boat that she might not 
be injured by the sea ; having no conveniency to ride her off 
[i.e., at anchor]. 

Which done, they shewed us the well of fresh water which 
was hard by their huts ; where we refreshed ourselves a 
little ; and with our sail we made a shade to keep the sun 
from us : and when we had so done, we lay down under it, 
to refresh ourselves with rest and sleep ; having had but 
little of either, all our voyage, being so extremely thronged 
together in our little boat. 

These privateers at first were very kind to us, and gave us 
some of their provisions : and related to us the story of their 
adventures ; which, to the best of my memory, was thus : 

That they formerly belonged to one Captain Yanche, 
Commander of a Privateer of 48 guns, that designed to 
plunder a Spanish town by the Gulf of Florida, called St. 
Augustine. And in order thereunto, he sent 30 of them out 
into the Gulf of Florida, to take canoes from the Indians ; 
for the more convenient and speedy landing of their men. 
But they going ashore on the Main to turn turtle [i.e., on 
their backs], were set upon by the Indians, and two of them 
killed on the place. However, at length, they put the Indians 



35*5 The privateers burn Pitman's roat. [ , J];,ri?6i"; 

to flight ; and some time afterwards, took two or three 
canoes, and one Indian prisoner : who conducted them to 
his own and his father's phmtations, on condition they would 
afterwards set him free ; where they stored themselves with 
provisions and other necessaries. But it cost them dear. 
For their Quartermaster and one more of the company were 
poisoned, by their unwary eating of casa'der [cassava] roots. 

The rest of them went, with those canoes and the Indian 
they had taken, to the place appointed, expecting to meet 
their man-of-war: but could not find her, and therefore 
being necessitated to shift for themselves as well as they 
could, they came to this island, hoping to meet here with 
some vessel loading of salt in which they might get a passage 
for some English port : but were disappointed here also, for 
the ships were all gone before they came. 

After we had sufliciently refreshed ourselves with rest and 
sleep, and returned to the LORD the praises due to his 
Name, for his wonderful and miraculous deliverance ; we 
thought it time to consider how to stop the leaks of our 
l)oat, and to raise a deck over her with rinds [barks] of trees, 
&c., that we might proceed in our intended voyage for 
Cura9oa. 

Our intentions were no sooner perceived by the privateers, 
but they endeavoured to persuade us from it : alleging the 
insufficiency of our boat, and the dangers we were so lately 
exposed unto; and advising us rather to go with them in 
their pereagoes [piraf^uas] a privateering than to hazard our 
lives by a second attempt. With the like argument, they 
would have easily prevailed with my companions to consent 
to go with them ; had I not persuaded them to the contrary. 

But when the privateers saw it was in vain to persuade, 
they thought to compel us, by burning our boat : supposing 
then that we would choose rather to go with them, than to 
stay upon the island till shipping came for salt, which would 
be eight or nine months ; and in the meantime, to be in 
danger of being taken by the Spaniards for privateers, or 
otherwise to be starved with hunger, for wc had no more 
than 4lbs. or 5lbs. of bread for each man left. 

But this contrivance answered not their expectations. 
For notwithstanding they burnt our boat and took our sails 
and other utensils from us, I continued my resolution, and 



"juneTeSg.] 2 2 PRIVATEERS SAIL AWAY FOR THE MAINLAND. 357 

chose rather to trust Divine Providence on that desolate and 
uninhabitable island than to partake or be any ways con- 
cerned with them in their piracy : having confidence in 
myself, that GOD, who had so wonderfully and miraculously 
preserved us on the sea and brought us to this island, would, in 
like manner, deliver us hence, if we continued faithful to Him. 

And in order to our better accommodation and preservation 
on this island, I gave the privateers 30 Pieces of Eight 
[ = ^6 = £"i8 now] for the Indian they took on the Main, but 
were not so true to their promise as to set him at liberty ; 
who I expected would be serviceable unto us in catching 
fish, &c. 

About the 25th of May [16:7], 22 of the privateers, having 
first raised the sides of their pereagoes [piraguas] with boards, 
fastened with the nails they saved in the burning of our boat, 
and fitted them for sea ; they set sail : leaving four of their 
company behind, that refused to go with them ; as also a 
Spanish boat that was of no service to them, neither could 
be of any use to us, unless we had sails to sail her, and a 
rudder to guide her, both of which we wanted. 

In this situation, they left us, deprived of all ways and 
means of getting off until the season aforesaid : unless GOD, 
by a particular Providence, should direct some vessel or 
other to touch here. 



But before I proceed to give account of our manner of life 
in this place, I think it necessary to give a short description 
of the island itself; which is situated in the latitude of 
11° 11' N. Lat. Its extent is about twelve miles in length, 
and two or three in breadth ; and is about 120 leagues 
from Barbadoes. 

It is called by the Spaniards, Tortitga, from the plenty of 
turtle that resort thither : but our English give it the name 
of Saltatndus, because there is such a great quantity of salt 
yearly brought from thence. The Spaniards claim the pro- 
priety of this island, lying so near the Main [South America], 
where they inhabit ; and therefore will sometimes take our 
English vessels as they are loading salt : of which they took 
two, the season before we came there. 

The east and west ends of this island are for the most part 



^^S Manner of living on desolate Tortuga. [ ,„" 



. Pitman, 
une i68g. 



sand. The middle consists of hard and craggy rocks, that 
are very porous, and resemble honeycombs : and therefore 
we called them Honeycomb Rocks. There are plenty of 
small bushes growing out of the sand, and of shrubs from 
between the rocks : but there are no timber trees on the 
whole island. 

On the south side, near the east end, are the mlinas or salt 
ponds ; from whence the salt is brought ; which is thus 
made. The sea or salt water penetrates through the beachy 
banks of the sea, and overflows a large plain of two or three 
miles circumference, nearly a foot deep ; where, by the scorch- 
ing heat of the sun, the thin aqueous part is exhaled, and the 
saline part is coagulated into pure white crystaline salt. And 
because there is a continual supply of salt water from the 
sea, the sun continues exhciling and coagulating, until the 
whole Salinas is deeply covered over with salt ; so that all they 
have to do, is only to rake it together, and carry it aboard. 

There is great plenty of birds and fowl, as pelicans, flam- 
mans [ ? Jlauiiufj^oes], paraquets, mocking birds, and an 
innumerable company of sea fowl : and also some vegetable 
productions, of which I shall have occasion to treat hereafter. 



But to return from this digression. The privateers had no 
sooner left us, but we found ourselves, of necessity, obliged 
to seek out for provisions. Being led by the example of 
those four privateers that stayed behind ; we walked along 
the sea shore to watch for tortoises or turtle : which when 
they came up out of the sea to lay their eggs in the sand, we 
turned on their backs. And they being incapable of turning 
themselves again, we let them remain so till the day following, 
or until we had conveniency of killing them : for if they were 
sufiiciently defended from the heat of the sun by a shade, 
which we usually built over them, they would live several 
days out of the water. 

And thus we walked to and fro in the night-time, to turn 
turtle ; and in the day-time, we were employed in killing 
them : whose flesh was the chiefest of our diet, being roasted 
by the fire on wooden spits. And sometimes when we 
designed a festival, we left some part of the flesh on the 
calapatch and calapcc, that is, the back and breast shells ; 



lo^u.riTesgG How THEY DRIED THE TURTLE. 359 

which we roasted, by setting them upright in two forked 
sticks thrust into the sand, before a large fire. 

What we did not eat, we cut into long and slender pieces; 
and after we had salted it very well, we dried it carefully in 
the sun, on ranges of sticks set up for that purpose : for we 
had no other way of preserving it, having nothing to wet 
salt in. But we found it so difficult to divide their shells, 
that we broke our knives ; and were forced to make new 
ones out of the swords my companions brought with them : 
which we did after this manner. First, we broke them into 
suitable lengths, and softened them in the fire ; and then 
rubbed them on a stone to a fit shape and thinness : and 
after we had hardened them again, we fixed them in hafts, 
and made them more serviceable than our former. 

And here for the better information of some persons, I 
think fit to describe these sea beasts, if I may so call them. 
They are somewhat of an oval form, strongly del^ended on 
the back and on the breast with a thick shell ; and have four 
fins covered with thick scales, that serve them instead of legs 
when they come ashore. They feed on Woose or Sea Grass 
that grows out of the rocks; which I judge is the true reason 
they do not eat fishy. They breathe, and therefore are 
obliged to come frequently up to the surface of the water; on 
which they sometimes float so soundly asleep, that they give 
seamen an opportunity with a boat to take them up. Their 
flesh is very delightsome and pleasant to the taste, much 
resembling veal ; but their fat is more yellow. The she or 
female turtle come up on the shore to lay their eggs in the 
sand, three times in the year, in the months of April, May, 
and June ; where they are brought to maturity by the sweet 
influence of the sun. When the young ones are hatched, 
they muster out of their cells and march into the sea : but 
not without danger of being devoured by the sea fowl that 
wait to destroy them. Each of these tortoises lays about 
140 eggs at one time, in about an hour's space ; which are 
fully as large as hens' eggs, but with this difference, that 
these are round, and covered only with a thick strong mem- 
brane or skin, nor will their whites harden by heat as the 
whites of hens' eggs. Their yolks we beat in calabashes 
with some salt ; and fried them with the fat of the tortoise, 



;6o Erecting houses against bad weather. [j„"; 



Pitman. 

une i6Sg. 



like to pancakes, in a piece of an earthen jar found by the 
sea-side : which we did eat instead of bread. 

I never saw any creature so Ion:; a-dying as these : for 
after we had cut tlieir throats, divided their bodies, and cut 
their flesh into small and minute parts ; every part and 
portion would continue twitching and moving itself a long 
time. They have a threefold heart, said to be the heart of 
a fowl, of a beast, and of a fish ; which will stir and pant 
several hours after it is taken out of their body. 

Our continual feeding on these tortoises brought us to a 
violent looseness [diarrhcca] which I speedily stopped with 
an opiatic tincture, which I had provided on another occa- 
sion. For before we came from Barbadoes, I thought of a 
way to deliver ourselves out of our enemies' hands, in case 
we should be taken, without shedding of blood. And it was 
thus. I dissolved a sufficient quantity of opium in a bottle 
of rich cordial water, which we carried with us in the boat: 
intending to give it to those persons that should take us, 
which I supposed they would readily drink, and by that 
means would be overtaken with so profound a sleep that we 
should have opportunity sufficient to make our escape from 
them. 

We were obliged to go many miles from the well of fresh 
water, to turn turtle, and to fetch salt from the salinas. 
This necessitated us to carry our water with us in a cask, 
over those uneven rocks, which soon wore out our shoes, 
and compelled us to make use of our soft and tender feet, 
unwilling to salute those hard and craggy rocks : which was 
very irksome to us at first, but time and necessity made it 
more familiar and easy, that, at length, the bottoms of our 
feet were hardened into such a callous substance that there 
were scarcely any rocks so hard but we could boldly trample 
them under our feet. 

WHien the season of the tortoises' coming ashore was 
expired, and we had gotten a considerable quantity of their 
ilesh salted and dried for our winter store; we set about 
building houses to defend us from the stormy weather, which 
we were shortly to expect, which we did so artiiicially, and 
covered them so well with coarse grass that grew by the sea- 
side, that neither the violence of winds, nor fierceness of 
storms could easily injure or offend us. Our household 



io"um"689.] The plants found on Tortuga. 361 

goods consisted chiefly in two or three earthen jars left us by 
the privateers, some few calabashes, and shells of fish that 
we found by the sea-side. In our houses, we formed a kind 
of little cabins to repose ourselves in, with as much ease as 
possibly we could. 

In these little huts or houses, we spent most of our time ; 
sometimes reading or writing. And at other times, I went 
abroad with my Indian a-fishing, at which he was so dex- 
terous that with his bow and arrow, he would shoot a small 
fish at a great distance. Sometimes we caught some* craw- 
fish, which we broiled over the coals ; and for change of diet, 
we sometimes ate a sort of shell fish that live on the rocks, 
and are like snails, but much larger, called Wth^ilks. 

And as there is no mountain so barren, on which there 
may not be found some medicinal plant ; so neither was this 
island so unfruitful, but it afforded us two vegetable produc- 
tions of great service unto us. The one we called Turks' 
Heads, being of an oval form, beset on every side with sharp 
prickles like a hedgehog; out of which there grew in the 
upper part, a longish red and pleasant fruit, about the big- 
ness of a small nut, in taste resembling a strawberry. The 
other was much more serviceable to us, called Curatoe [ ? the 
Agave], of an oval body or stump, like the former: but out of 
this grew long thick leaves, whose edges were prickly, and its 
juice so exceeding sharp and pungent that it was not easily 
suffered on the bare skin ; with which we washed our linen 
as with soap, for it would scour excellently well. Through 
the leaves are dispersed long and thready fibres, with which, 
when we had separated and dried them in the sun, we made 
very good thread, and mended our clothes therewith, in 
needles which we made of bones. With the leaves, I made 
a most excellent balsom [poultice] for wounds, by boiling 
them in the fat of the tortoises, which I brought to a suflicient 
consistency by adding bees' wax thereunto. Thus much of 
its external use. 

Its internal use follows. After we had cut off the leaves 
about three or four inches from the body, we digged a great 
hole or pit in the sand, and heated it exceedingly hot ; and 
put the said body therein, covering it up in the hot sand : 
where we permitted it to remain live or six days, in which 
time, the juice that was before extraordinarily sharp and 



362 Innumerable birds tasting very fishy. [J]J,'"9'. 

corrosive, by this digestion became so strangely changed 
that it was extremely sweet and pleasant, like the syrup of 
baked pears. And after we had pressed it forth, and fer- 
mented it with a proportionable quantity of water ; it became 
a most pleasant and spirituous liquor to drink. The inner- 
most part of the body or stump, we cut into slices, and ate it 
like bread. 

At this island, there is an innumerable company of sea 
fowl that lay their eggs in the sand, overspreading at some 
places, nearly twenty yards as near together as the birds 
can well sit to lay them. And when the young ones are 
hatched, they run about in great companies, like chickens, a 
considerable time before they are able to fly ; which often 
afforded us pleasant diversion, to pursue and take them : 
which, when we had skinned, salted, and dried in the sun, we 
could preserve a long time. But they did eat extremely fishy; 
much like red herrings. 

We endeavoured to make a pot to boil our turtle in, by 
tempering the finest sand with the yolks of turtles' eggs and 
goats* hair : for we could find no clay or earth in the whole 
island : but we could not possibly make them endure the 
drying ; so that we were forced to eat our turtle roasted by 
the fire on wooden spits. 

There is a pleasant fragrant herb grows out of the sand 
among the rocks, which we call Wild Sage ; whose leaves 
we smoked instead of Tobacco : and for want of a pipe, I 
smoked it in a crab's claw ; of which crabs there were 
plenty, but they were so poor that we did not eat them. 

There is also an insect called a Soldier [? the hermit crab] ; 
having a shell like a snail : but some say this shell is not 
proper to themselves. For having weak and tender bodies, 
they get possession of these shells to defend themselves 
against the injury of the air, and attempts of other creatures. 
As they grow bigger, they shift their shells, and get into 
large ; being commonly those of Peridwinkles. They have, 
instead of a foot, an instrument like a crab's claw, where- 
with they close the entrance of their shells, and thereby 
secure their whole body. When they are set near the fire, 
they presently forsake their quarters ; and if it be presented 
to them again, they go backwards. They commonly keep 
in great companies about the rocks near the well ot Iresh 



loJuife'Tesg.] Two VESSELS ARRIVE OFF THE ISLAND, 363 

water. When they intend to change their lodgings, there 
sometimes happens a serious engagement, managed with 
that clasping instrument; still the strongest, by conquest, 
gets possession, which he carries about with him, on his 
back, during his pleasure. 

Another little insect is worthy to be mentioned, called 
Lizards. They were so familiar and friendly, that they 
would come boldly among us, and do us no harm. They 
have four legs and their bodies are adorned with divers 
delightsome colours. They feed on flies, and for that reason 
were serviceable unto us in killing them : which they per- 
formed with great nimbleness and cunning. For they lay 
down where they supposed the fly would come, putting their 
heads into as many different postures as the fly shifts places ; 
and when they find their advantage, they start so directly 
on their prey with open mouth, that they seldom miss it. 
They are so very tame that, when we were eating, they 
would come on our meat and hands to catch flies. 



After we had spent about three months [May-August, 1687] 
in this desolate and disconsolate island ; we saw a ship, at- 
tended by a small sloop, steering towards the shore. At which, 
we were at once possessed with hopes and fears : with hopes, 
that it was some E '^lish vessel, in which we might prob- 
ably get a passage thence ; and with fear, lest it should be a 
Spaniard, who doubtless would make us prisoners, if they 
could take us, supposing that we were privateers. 

The four privateers that remained with us all this time, 
drew near the sea-side, where the ship was at an anchor, and 
after they had discovered them to be privateers, made signs 
to them to send their boat ashore : which accordingly they 
did. 

And after they had carried them on board, the Captain of 
the man-of-war sent up the sloop to that part of the island 
where I and my companions were : and when they came 
ashore unto us, they inquired, " Which was the Doctor? " 

My companions informed them it was I. One of them 
therefore addressed himself particularly to me, desiring me, 
in the name and on the behalf of their Captain, to go with 
them on board the man-of-war ; where I should be kindly 



364 The trivateers will only take Pitman. [ io"ure7o89. 

entertained, and have liberty to come [go] ashore when I 
pleased. 

I readily embraced this kind invitation ; but could not 
procure liberty for any of ny companions to go with me. 

When we came to the man-of-war, I was ver}' honourably 
handed up the side, the trumpets in the meantime sounding'; 
and very kindly received and welcomed aboard by the Cap- 
tain and Doctor : who invited me aft into the Great Cabin, 
where I was not only feasted with wine and choice provi- 
sions ; but had given me by the Doctor a pair of silk 
stockings, a pair of shoes, and a great deal of linen cloth to 
make me shirts, &c. 

After a long discourse concerning the affairs of England, 
more particularly of the progress and defeat of the Duke of 
Monmouth, which they seemed to deplore; I addressed 
myself to the Captain in the behalf of myself and com- 
panions, humbly entreating him to permit us to go with 
them either to that port to which they were bound, or 
otherwise to put us on board some English ship that they 
should accidentally meet withal. For I understood by their 
discourse, that they had taken a rich prize ; and were bound 
directly for a port, to spend their money, as they usually do : 
so that I apprehended no danger in going with them. 

But the Captain not being able to take us aboard without 
the consent of the Company, having but two votes and as 
many shares in the ship and cargo ; the Company were 
called together, and, after some debates, they voted that 
they would take me with them, but none of my companions. 
However they were so kind that they sent them a cask of 
wine, some bread and cheese, a gammon of bacon, some 
linen cloth, thread and needles to make them shirts, &c. 
And the next day, they permitted them to come on board, 
and entertained them very courteously. 

In about two days' time, we set sail ; leaving my com- 
panions on the island, not a little grieved at my departure. 
We stood away to the northward, with a design to go to 
Ilia Terra. 

From which, at present I shall digress to give an account 
of what became of those privateers that left us; who were 
the occasion of my being delivered from this place. 



xo^uri'T6"9.] T II E Y SAIL FOR THE B A II A M A S. 365 

The next day '26th May, 16S7J, after they went from us, they 
arrived at the main continent, where they hauled up their 
piraguas, and stayed there about a fortnip;ht, waiting to 
seize some Spanish vessel that might come that wa}-, whicfi 
they designed, if possible, speedily to board before the 
Spaniards could get themselves in a posture of defence. But 
not meeting here with any prize, they went to the wind- 
ward ; where they took a canoe ladened with pork : and 
meeting with some English vessel at one of the Windward 
Islands, they parted companj^ Some went for Carolina. 
The others went in a small sloop to Blanco : where they 
met with a man-of-war, a Privateer, that had taken a 
Portuguese, a great ship called the Grand Gustaphus, laden 
with wine and linen cloth, &c. When these had shared her 
cargo, they parted company : the French with their shares 
went it for Petty Guavas, in the Grand Gustaphus ; and the 
English being informed by those other privateers of our 
being on Saltatudos, came thither with their man-of-war, as 
is before expressed. 

In about five or six days after we left Saltatudos, we made 
Porto Rico. Our vessel being so extremely leaky, some of 
the Company were for putting into Mena. But the rest not 
consenting, we steered betwixt Porto Rico and Hispaniola, 
and so to the eastward of the Abrolctas or " Handkerchers " : 
where there were divers vessels on the Wrack, diving for 
plate. But we stopped not here, but continued our course 
to the northward until we came into the latitude of Ilia 
Terra, and then steered away west for the island. 

As we were running down, we saw a ketch, to which we gave 
chase, and in a few hours came up with her; who told us that 
they came from New York, and were bound for Providence. 

As soon as the privateers understood that Providence [one 
of the Bahamas] was inhabited again ; they altered their reso- 
lutions, and designed to go with them to that place : and 
accordingly kept them compan3^ 

The night following, we met with bad weather, and were 
like to run ashore on Ilia Terra, through the carelessness of 
our pilot ; had not a person from the quarter-deck, that was 
more watchful than the rest, espied the land just before us. 

But this was not all. For after we had tacked about, and 



;66 The rREACiiixG Governor's signal. [j„" 



. Pitmnn. 

une 1009. 



were lying by, with the heads of both vessels off ashore, the 
men on board the ketch were so drunk with the wine the 
privateers had given them, that they suffered their ketch to 
drive aboard us, and, with the violence of the blow she gave 
us, broke down our cat-head : and had we not by a particular 
Providence, got free from her : we had both unavoidably 
sunk down in the sea. For our vessel was so extremely 
leaky before, that at the same time she had three feet of 
water in her hold ; and our pumps being both out of order, 
we were forced to convey it out with tubs. 

The next day, we steered into Providence, and came to 
anchor under the command of a small stochadoe fort [stockade], 
built by the new inhabitants ; who had not been there above 
eight months. But they had so well improved their time, 
that they had built a town by the seaside ; and elected a 
Governor from among themselves : who, with the consent of 
twelve more of the chief men of the island, made and enacted 
divers laws for the good of their little commonwealth ; being 
as yet under the protection of no Prince. 

The privateers found here a kind reception by the inhabi- 
tants. After they had gotten their goods ashore, they ran 
their ship aground, and burnt her ; giving their guns to the 
inhabitants to fortify the island : designing to divide them- 
selves into small numbers, and to go thence, to some other 
place where they might sell their goods, and betake them- 
selves to an honest course of life. 

The Governor of this island was a very sober man, an 
Independent ; and usually preached to the inhabitants every 
First Day of the week : at which time, he caused a gun to 
be fired for a signal, to give notice to the people, when he 
was going to begin. 

Whilst I remained here, the privateers had two false 
alarms ; supposing the Spaniards were come again to dis- 
possess them of the island. For this being formerly a harbour 
for privateers, and a nest of robbers ; the Spaniards, on a 
time when most of the men were on the Old Wrack, pillaged 
and burnt their towns ; carried away, as it was reported, 
^30,000 [=£"90,000 now] in plate and money; and took some 
of the inhabitants prisoners. The others fled to Ilia Terra, 
where they remained till this island was resettled by those 
few inhabitants that came from Jamaica and other parts. 



lo^junl'^es";] Pitman goes to New York. 367 

The island itself is very fruitful, and if the report of the 
inhabitants be true, the quickest in production of any I ever 
heard or read of. There is plenty of wild hogs in the 
woods, which the inhabitants often kill ; and good store of 
wild grapes, with which they make good wine ; and divers 
sorts of fruits, as oranges, lemons, limes, guavas : also 
medicinal herbs as tea radix, Contra yerva, Jesuit's bark, &c. 
Of eatable roots, there are partatoes, yams, edders, &c. 



The ketch, with whom we came in company to this island, 
sold part of their bread and tlour to the privateers, for linen 
cloth ; and some they sold to the inhabitants. 

In about a fortnight's time, they set sail for Carolina, and 
I with them. As we were sailing down among the Bohemia 
islands [Bahamas], towards the Gulf of Florida; we were like 
to be cast away on the rocks and shoals that lay in our way : 
but, through mercy, we got clear. 

When we came on the coast of Carolina, we met with 
blowing weather; and by the mistake of our Captain fell in 
[with the coast] to the Southward, where we came to an 
anchor : but the wind was so high, that in weighing of it, 
our cable broke. 

The next day we came to an anchor again just before the 
bar of Carolina [ ? Charleston] : for our Captain was afraid to 
go in with his vessel, for fear they would seize him, because 
he had been dealing with the privateers : and for that reason, 
he only sent in his boat, to get some fresh provisions, and to 
put on shore a passenger that came with us. 

And because I found no vessel here, bound directly for 
England, I resolved to go with them to New York. And 
here also, we had the misfortune to lose our other anchor : 
insomuch that when we came to Sandy Hook, we were forced 
to ride our vessel by two of her guns, which we had slung 
for that purpose, until our boat had got us a small anchor 
from on board some other vessel. The next day, we went up 
to New York. 

Where, as I was walking one morning on the bridge, I 
accidentally met with a person I knew, that came lately from 
Barbadoes. At first I was surprised ; but having confidence 



368 Hopes &c. at Barp.adofs, after the escape. [^;„fj';"6'^^; 

that he would not discover me, I went to him, and desired 
him to come to some house, where we might privately dis- 
course together. 

He was glad to see me safe there : and according to my 
desire, he went with me to a house hard by : where I gave 
him an account of my adventures, and what had happened 
to me since I left Barbadoes. 

He, in requital, gave me an account of the different resent- 
ments people had at our departure, and how after we were 
gone, our Masters had hired a sloop to send after us ; but 
thinking it in vain, they did not pursue us. However, they 
sent our names and the description of our persons to the 
Leeward Islands, that so, if any of us came thither, we might 
be taken prisoners and sent up again. 

At one time, it was reported that we had gotten aboard a 
Dutch vessel, and were bound for Holland : at another time, 
that we were taken prisoners at St. Christophers, and to be 
sent back in chains ; which made our Masters rejoice, and 
insultingly to boast of the severe punishments they would 
inflict upon us. They were resolved, as they said, that I 
should be hanged ! for an example to others ; because I was 
the chief contriver and manager of our escape. But these 
hopes and insultings of theirs were soon over: for when, at 
length, they could hear no true account of us, they concluded 
that we had perished in the sea. 

I had not been long at New York, before I got passage in 
a vessel bound for Amsterdam ; and in order thereunto took 
out a Ticket from the Secretary's Office by another name. 

In about five weeks' time, we arrived at Cowes, on the Isle 
of Wight ; where this vessel stopped to clear. 

As soon as I had got m}' chest, &c., ashore, I embarked 
for Southampton ; where I left my chest at a friend's house. 

I returned in a disguise to my relations: who, before this 
time, unknown to me, had procured my Pardon ; and joyfully 
received me, as one risen from the dead. For having 
received no account from me, since I left Barbadoes; they 
did almost despair of ever seeing me any more. 



lojune 16S9.J J- RAISING, THANKING, DEDICATING. 



169 




Oiv unto the Eternal and Trne GOD, the 
sacred Fountain of all mercies, that has been 
with me in all dangers and times of trial, 
Who miraculously preserved me on the deep 
waters, and according to the multitude of His mercies 
delivered me when appointed to die : unto Him, do /, 
with sincere gratitude, dedicate the remainder of my 
days I humbly imploring that the Angel of His Presence 
may always attend me ! and the remembrance of His 
repeated favoiLrs more and more e7igage my heart to 
serve Him ! that in testimony of my abundant thank- 
fulness, I may return to Him, a perpetual sacrifice of 
praise ajtd thanksgiving, henceforth and for ever ! 

From my lodging, at the sign of the Ship, in Paul's 
Churchyard, London. June the loth, 1689. 

Henry Pitman. 




Enc. Gar. VII. 



24 



;7^ 




An Account of the adventures of my 

Compa7tions^ since I left them 

on Saltatudos. 

Communicated to me, by J o h n Whicker, 
since his arrival in England. 

Dear Doctor, 

N ANSWER to your request, I have given you 
the following account. 

About a fortnight after you left us on Salta- 
tudos {in August, 16S71, two of our companions, 
John Nuthall and Thomas Waker [the two 
that had not been out with MoN MOUTH], having 
made sails of the cloth the privateers left us, 
and fitted the Spanish boat for the sea, went 
from us, designing for Cura9oa. But the boat was so large 
and unruly, and they, so unskilful in navigation ; that I fear 
they either perished in the sea, or were driven ashore on 
the Main among the cruel Spaniards: for we never heard 
of them since. 

The next day after they departed from us, there arrived 
here a small Privateer boat, of about 4 tons ; in which were 
eight Englishmen and one Negro, that formerly belonged to 
the ship in which you embarked, but had left her, and went 
ashore upon an island called I'ernando [Vo], which lies to 
the southward, on the coast of Bra^^il. 

Their reason for leaving their ship was this. Having 




J- '^^"^'^e,":] The men who would not turn pirates. 371 

been out of Carolina, about a 3'ear and a half, and had made 
nothing considerable of a voyage, they had resolved for the 
South Seas, but coming to the Straits of Magellan, they met 
with very bad weather, which forced them to put back again ; 
and- then they resolved to turn pirates. 

But these eight men being averse to the rest of their com- 
panions' design, went ashore upon the island aforesaid, 
carrying with them what they had on board, and intending 
to go from thence in a small boat, which was given them by 
the ship's crew, with some rigging and other necessaries ; 
which they designed to build upon and raise higher in case 
of bad weather, having in their company two carpenters and 
a joiner. 

Taking their leave of each other, the ship put to sea. Next 
morning, she saw a sail at a considerable distance ; but 
making the best of their way, they soon came up with her; 
and finding her to be a Portuguese, they laid her aboard, and 
took her with very little resistance ; though she was a bigger 
ship, and had more men than the Privateer. 

Having made her a prize, they brought her away to the 
same island [? Fernando Po], on which were their com- 
panions ; and turned the prisoners ashore among them, 
giving them a boat and oars. But this caused no small 
trouble among the English who were then inhabiters with 
them. Being well armed, they kept them at a distance from 
their apartment all that day : but the next night, the Portu- 
guese ran away, carrying with them their own boat and the 
Englishmen's too. 

Then were they in a bad condition, not having a ship nor 
boat with which they could convey themselves from that 
desolate island. 

Then were they constrained to cut and fell a sort of trees 
called mangroves ; and in the best manner they could, 
sawed out boats, planks, and other timbers fit for their use ; 
and began to build a new boat from the keel. 

In six weeks, or thereabouts, they finished her, being in 
burden as they judged 4 tons. No one was idle, but em- 
ployed himself; some about their new vessel, while others, 
by turns, travelled the island to shoot for provision : which 
was a sort of birds, called Boobies, something resembling our 
English seagulls or pies, but bigger. 



3/2 Three ruffians try to master the rest. \J- 



Wliicker. 

? 1689. 



This island affords a sort of very large and pleasant figs ; 
which they also fed on sometimes. There are a great many 
wild dogs, very large and fat, which eat very little or nothing 
but figs. Likewise, in the day-time, there came ashore sea 
lions [? ivalmscs], which will sit by the water-side, and make 
hideous roaring. They are hairy about their head and neck, 
much like our land lions ; their paws are very large, with a 
skin like the foot of a swan, which serves them to swim 
withal. They are very fearful and timorous, not suffering a 
man to come nigh them but presently they make to the sea. 
They live under water as well as above. 

Having launched and rigged their boat, they put on board 
their provisions ; which was only a small cask of pease that 
was given them by the ship, which they kept by them for 
their sea store. 

Having water and all things aboard, they took their depar- 
ture from Fernando aforesaid, committing themselves to the 
protection of Almighty GOD and the mercies of the seas, and 
directing their course for Tobago. But missing it, the pilot 
ordered to bear up the helm for Saltatudos : at which place 
they arrived, but almost famished ; for they had had neither 
peas nor water for the space of five or six days before. 

Having lain some days at the east end of the island un- 
known to us, and being in great want of provisions, they 
resolved to travel over the island to see if they could find out 
any food. By chance, they found some salt turtle, which we 
had laid upon a tree, and covered it over with a calapatch to 
secure it from the weather. 

Three of these men being very unprincipled and loose kind 
of fellows, waiting their opportunity when three of their 
companions were abroad, went aboard and fetched tiieir 
arms : then came to the hut, where the other two were, and 
presented a pistol to each of their breasts, and swore " If 
they would not carry everything aboard, they were dead 
men ! " 

The two men being surprised, and not able to make any 
resistance (the three having all the arms in their custody) 
were forced to comply, and carry all aboard. 

Which done, they charged them that " if they did not 
acquaint them when the others came home, they would make 
them examples ! " 



J- Y'"^6S9.] The prisoner runs toWiiicker's company. 373 

They promised very fair. 

Having done this, they went aboard, waiting for their 
coming ho ^e. 

In the evening, the other three men came to their hut, not 
mistrusting what had happened ; but finding the hut rilled 
and everything gone, inquired the meaning of it. Wliich 
having understood, they bethought what to do. 

To tarry, they were afraid : to go, they could not tell where. 
For they had travelled all day, and could not find a drop of 
fresh water ; neither was there any at the hut, for the others 
had carried all aboard. 

Being very faint, one was resolved to hail the boat, and 
beg a little. The others kept close [Jiid] to see how he would 
fare. 

Who having hailed them, they made answer *' He should 
have some." So coming ashore, they laid hold on him, and 
tied his hands behind him ; and left him in custody with one 
of them, while they went to look for the rest. The reason 
why they endeavoured to take them, was because they had 
hid their money in the sand, and did not keep it in their chests. 

But in the meantime, while they were looking for the 
others, the prisoner, by means of a knife he had in his pocket, 
cut loose the line with which his hands were tied, and made 
his escape. 

Being thus exiled from his companions, he bethought him- 
self of ranging the island to look for men : for the turtle which 
they had found came afresh in his memory. All this time 
he had no victuals, nor a drop of water ; being excessively 
hot. 

At length, having travelled about the island till almost 
ready to faint; he came near our huts ; and seeing us dressing 
of turtle with nothing on but a pair of drawers; the man 
made a stand, thinking we had been Indians, for we were 
tanned with the sun almost as yellow as them. 

At length, he advanced, and inquired if we were English- 
men ? 

We told him, " We were." 

Then he begged for a little water, which we gave him, and 
some of our turtle. 

And after some conference, he told us of his condition, and 
desired us to help him to regain what was so ungralefuliy 



374 The ruffians are left on Tortuga. p' y^'ies"! 

taken from him and his fellow sufferers, by their own -country- 
men and boat's crew. Which we readily agreed to. 

And when we had fixed our arms, we travelled all night till 
we came where the boat lay ; which was about six or seven 
miles from that place. 

When we came near the place, we hid ourselves in the 
bushes by the sea-side, waiting their coming ashore next 
morning, which they usually did, as we were informed. 

Morning being come ; two of them came ashore, and the 
Negro slave bearing a vessel to fetch water: they with their 
arms, and leaving one aboard, with twelve pieces by him 
ready loaded. 

When they were come ashore, we appeared, with our arms 
ready cocked, enclosed them and took them prisoners. 

Then we brought them to the water-side, and shewed the 
other aboard what we had done, commanding him not to fire, 
but to jump overboard, and swim ashore to us : which he 
immediately did. 

So taking them all three prisoners, we put them ashore, 
leaving them some of our provisions. 

[? Did Defoe get his idea of Will. A tkins &r'c.from this^ 

The rest we put aboard, in order to prosecute our voyage 
for New England. So victualling and watering our small 
frigate in the best manner we could, we left them upon the 
island ; and the 24th of August [16S7] we took our departure 
from Saltatudos. 

In about six days' time, we made the island of Porto Rico ; 
but our pilot not being very well acquainted with that country, 
supposed it to be the high land of Santo Domingo upon 
Hispaniola; and therefore ordered to bear up the helm and 
stand away to the westward before the wind. 

The next day, we could see no land ; which caused no 
small trouble amongst us, being dubious where we were. 

Towards the evening, we made the east end of Hispaniola. 
Then our pilot saw his error, and that we had lost our passage 
between the islands Hispaniola and Porto Rico. 

We were sailing down the south side of Hispaniola about 
nine days, having sometimes very little wind, and at other 
times tornadoes that we could carry no sail. Our water was 
all spent. 



\Mi 



V^'^S'.] WiIICKEr's COMPANY ENSLAVED BY SPANIARDS. 375 

Runnin.sf along close aboard the shore, we espied three 
men running with all the haste that possibly thev could, till 
they came to a canoe which lay at the mouth of a creek ; 
which immediately they rowed up into the country among 
the woods. We imagined they were atYaid of us, supposing 
us to be Spaniards. 

Then we came to an anchor, and I myself with one more, 
a carpenter, swam ashore : but with a great deal of difficulty, 
for the rocks lying so far off the shore, had like to have 
dashed out our brains. 

Coming ashore, we swam up the creek ; but the tide being 
so strong against us, we were forced to return back again, 
neither finding the men nor hope of getting fresh water. 
Therefore we swam aboard again. 

Weighing our anchor, we steered within the isle of Ash, 
which lies almost to the west end of Hispaniola. Our pilot 
looking over his Waggoner, found that within this island 
was a fresh-water creek, into which we designed to run ; 
but through mistake ran about two leagues up into a 
wrong creek where we could find no fresh water : so that 
with drinking salt water, our mouths were almost grown 
together and hardly able to speak. But GOD Almighty was 
pleased to send us a very great shower of rain, which lasted 
so long that, by means of a sheet held up by the four corners, 
with a weight in it, we caught about two gallons of water. 

So lowering our sails we hauled up the creek into the 
woods, and went ashore, and concluded to dig a well. When 
we had digged about four or six feet deep, we found fresh 
water to our great comfort and satisfaction. 

Lying ashore all night to take up the water as it sprang, 
we were almost stung to death with a sort of flies, called 
Musquitoes and Meryy^nui^s, which drew blisters and bladders 
in our skin, that we looked as if we had the smallpox ; which 
were very tedious for our bodies too. 

By next morning, we had got about forty gallons of water 
aboard ; with which we put to sea again. 

But we had not been at sea above three hours, before we 
saw a sail within the west end of the isle of Ash before 
mentioned. We bore up our helm, and stood away for her. 
In a short time, we saw her come to an anchor. 



,76 The death of J. Atkins, of Taunton. [■'• 



Wliicker, 
? 1689. 



Supposing her to be a Jamaica sloop, for she had our King's 
Jack [nrnis] and ancient [colours] ; we hailed them. 

Whose answer was " From Jamaica." 

So coming to anchor by their side, they laid us aboard 
with two canoes, full of Spaniards, all armed as pirates, and 
carried us aboard their sloop, stripped us naked, and put us 
down in their hold : having nothing to lay our naked bodies 
upon but their ballast stones, or atop of their water cask. 

The provisions they allowed us were coarse and short : 
about half a pint of Indian corn a day for a man, for nine 
days together. 

The place where they carried us is called St. Jago, a 
Spanish town upon Cuba. 

We remained in this condition above six months. When 
they went to sea, we were carried as their slaves ; to pump 
ship, wash their clothes, and beat corn in great wooden 
mortars ; with Negroes, with naked swords, always standing 
by as overseers : so that our hands have been bladdered, and 
so sore that we could hardly hold anything. When at home, 
our business was to row the canoe up two leagues into the 
country ; full of jars, to fetch water, which we were forced 
to carry upon our naked backs a great way, to fill them ; 
sometimes, into the woods to cut wood, barefooted and bare- 
legged, with neither a shirt to our back, nor a hat to our 
head, but only a rag sufficient to cover our nakedness. Our 
provisions, as I told you before, were Indian corn boiled in 
water ; but a larger share than the first. 

About the latter end of October [1687], we were divided: 
myself with three more were put on board a small bark, the 
rest of my companions remained aboard the sloop ; both 
vessels being bound down to leeward of Cape [dej Cruz ; 
having information of a Dutch trader that lay there, before 
a small town, called Byan. 

In which voyage, we were all taken very sick in the ague, 
as well Spaniards as English ; which reduced us to a deplor- 
able condition, having nothing to yield us any comfort. 

In this distemper, died one of our companions, Jkki-:miaii 
Atkins, of Taunton. During his sickness, they were very 
cruel to him ; not suffering us to carr}' him dow-n into the 
hold, but made him lie day and night upon the deck. All 
we could do for him, was to cover him with the bark of a 



■^' y^'iS-] 'f J^E Spaniards attack two siiirs. 2^']'] 

cabbage tree, to keep the sun from him by day, and the dew 
b}' night. In this languishing condition, he lay about a 
week ; and then died. When dead, they threw him over- 
board, letting him float astern ; without using any means to 
sink him, as is usual. 

Returning back again for St. Jago, without their expected 
prize ; myself and one more of our companions were taken 
again from on board the bark, and put aboard the sloop ; and 
two others of our English were put aboard the bark, which 
took its departure from us at Cape [dej Cruz aforesaid, bound 
for Cartagena, a Spanish town upon the main continent. 

In five days, we arrived at our port of St Jago, where we 
lay about a month. 

Having careened our sloop, we put to sea again, bound 
for the north side of Hispaniola, to take Frenchmen. 

Turning up to windward of Cuba, we met with a Jamaica 
sloop bound for the Wrack. The Spaniard commanded him 
to hoist out his canoe, and come aboard : which he refusing, 
went his way. 

Having weathered Cape Myceze [Maysi], which is the east- 
ward point of Cuba, we stood along shore, bound for a small 
town, called Barracco {Bavacoa\, wherein two days we arrived. 

We lay there till the latter end of October, [1687I, at 
which place our sloop drave ashore, and struck off about 
fourteen feet of her false keel : but after a great deal of 
trouble, we got her off again. At this place, they got two 
hogs ; and a quantity of plantains, a sort of food that grow 
upon trees, and are made use of instead of bread, among the 
inhabitants in the West Indies. 

We then proceeded in our voyage for Hispaniola, and fell 
in with a place called the Mould. Off which place, we saw 
two sail : an English vessel that came from Jamaica, bound 
for New York; and a French sloop bound for Petty Guavas, 
a French town to leeward, on the north side of the said 
Hispaniola. 

Having a fresh gale, we came up with the Englishman, 
brought him by the lee, commanded the Captain with four 
of his men aboard, and put twelve Spaniards aboard his 
ship. 

Then chasing the Frenchman, we came up with him, 
about an hour after night. The Frenchman stood it out 



378 How Whickers company were freed, p- y''i68Q. 

and fought us, making a stout resistance ; although they 
had not above seven or eight men, and of the Spaniards, 
there were thirty-five men, eight guns, six patteroes, and 
every man his small arms. The French making such a bold 
resistance kept them off till such time as they had an oppor- 
tunity to run their sloop aground in the Mould, in the dark ; 
by which means they saved their lives : otherwise they had 
been all dead men, as the Spaniards swore if they took them. 

In the next morning, we ran into the Mould, and brought 
out their sloop ; and put about ten men aboard : bringing 
both prizes away for St, Jago. 

From the English Captain, they took £"900 in money, and 
plundered him of all he had, save a suit of clothes that he 
wore: and but waited the Governor's [of St. Jago] motion, to 
make a prize of the ship. Which would have been done, 
had not the Spanish Governor received advice of the Duke 
of Albemarle's arrival at Jamaica. 



Upon which news, the Governor paid the English Captain 
;f6oo of his money back again, and sent him away to 
Jamaica; and all the English prisoners, that would go with 
him, were freed by his consent. 

By this time, arrived the bark in which were the other 
three of our companions ; who were very glad to hear of our 
and their redemption. 

We embarked once again free men together, by GOD's 
grace, bound for Jamaica : where we safely arrived about the 
latter end of March [1688]. 

So separating ourselves, we endeavoured in the best 
manner wc could, to get passage for h>ngland, our native 
country, desiring GOD Almighty to deliver us, and all our 
dear countrymen Protestants, from the barbarous cruelty of 
the Spaniards and Papists. 

FINIS. 



D AI P H ANTU S, 

O R 

The Passions of Love. 

Comical to read. 

But Tragical to act: 

As full of Wit, as Experience. 

By An. Sc. Gentleman. 

F(£lix quern faciunt aliena pericula cautum. 

Whereunto is added, 

"TJoe Passionate Marl's Pilgrimage. 




LONDON: 

Printed by T. C. for William Cotton: and are 

to be sold at his shop, near Ludgate. 1604. 



38i 



To the mighty, learned, and ancient Poten- 
tate, QuisQUis, Emperor of ^^ King of 
Great and Little A., Prince of B. C. and 
D., &c. ; Aliquis wisheth the much 
increase of true subjects, free from 
Passion, spleen, and melancholy ; 
and endued with virtue, 
wisdom, and mag- 
nanimity. 

Or to the Reader. 

N Epistle to the Reader ! Why ! that mud have 
his Forehead or first entrance like a Courtier, fair- 
spoken and full of expectation ; his Middle or centre 
like your citizen's warehouse, beautified with enticinf^ 
vanities, though the true riches consist of bald commodi- 
ties ; his Rendezvous or conclusion like the lawyer's case, able 
to pocket np any matter ; but let good words be your best evidence ! 
In the General or foundation, he must be like Paul's Church, re- 
solved to let every Knight and Gull travel upon him : yet his Par- 
ticulars or lineaments may be Royal as the Exchange, with ascending 
steps, promising new but costly devices and fashions. It must have 
Teeth like a Satyr, Eyes like a critic ; and yet may your Tongue 
speak false Latin, like your panders and bawds of poetry. Your 
Genius and Species should march in battle array with our politi- 
cians : yet your Genius ought to live with an honest soul indeed. 
It should be like the never-too-well-read Arcadia, wJiere the 
Prose and Verse, Matter and Words, are like his [Sidney's] 
Mistress's eyes ! one still excelling another, and without cor- 
rival ! or to come home to the vtdgar's element, like friendly 
Shakespeare's Tragedies, whej'c the Comedian rides, when 
the Tragedian stands on tiptoe. Faith, it should please all, like 
Prince Hamlet/ Bid, in sadness, then it icere to be feared, 
he would run mad. In sooth, I will not be moonsick, to please ! 
nor out of my wits, though I displease all ! What ? Poet ! are 
you in Passion, or out of Love ? This is as strange as true ! 




•82 T O T II E R E A D E R. [^,V,^; 



Well, well ! if I seem mystical or tyrannical ; whether I be 
a fool or a Lord's-Ingle ; all's one ! If yoit be an^ry, you are not 
well advised ! I will tell you, it is an Indian humour I have 
snuffed tip from Divine Tobacco ! and it is most gentlemanlike , 
to puff it out at any place or person ! 

ril ?zo Epistle / It were worse than one of Hercules' 
labours ! but will conclude honesty is a man's best virtue. A nd 
but for the Lord Mayor and the two Sheriffs, the Inns of Court, 
and many Gallants elsewhere, this last year might have been burned! 
As for MOMUS {carp and bark who will !), if the noble Ass bray 
not, I am as good a Knight Poet, as ^tatis suae, Master An. 
Dom.'s son-in-law. 

Let your critic look to the rowels of his spurs, the pad of his 
saddle, and the jerk of his wand ! then let him ride me and my 
rhymes down, as hotly as he woidd. I care not ! We shall meet 
and be friends again, with the breaking of a spear or two ! and 
who would do less, for a fair Lady ? 

There I leave you, where you shall ever find me ! 



Passionate Daiphantus, your loving subject, 
Gives you to understand, he is a Man in Print, and it is enough 
he hath undergone a Pressing, though for your sakes and for 
Ladies : protesting for this poor infant of his brain, as it was the 
price of his virginity, born into the world with tears : so {but for a 
many his dear friends that took much pains for it) it had died, 
and never been laughed at ! and that if Truth have wrote less than 
Fiction ; yet it is better to err in Knowledge than in Judgement ! 
Also, if he have caught up half a line of any other's, it was out of 
his memory, not of any ignorance! 

Why he dedicates it to All, and not to any Particular, as his 
Mistress or so? His answer is. He is better born, tJuui to creep into 
women's favours, and ask their leave afterwards. 

A Iso lie desireth you to help to correct such errors of the Printer, 
which {because the A uthor is dead, or was out of the City) hath been 
committed. And it was his folly, or the Stationer's, you had not 
an Epistle to the purpose. 

Thus like a lover, wooes he for your favour ; 
Which, if you grant, then Omnia vincit Amor. 



3^: 




The Argtime7tt, 




AiPHANTUS, a younger brother, very honourably 
descended, brought up but not born in Venice ; 
naturally subject to Courting, but not to Love ; 
reputed a man rather full of compliment, than of 
true courtesy ; more desirous to be thought honest, than 
so to be wordish beyond discretion ; promising more to all, 
than friendship could challenge ; mutable in all his actions, 
but his affections aiming indeed to gain opinion rather than 
goodwill ; challenging love from greatness, not from merit ; 
studious to abuse his own wit, by the common sale of his 
infirmities ; lastly, under the colour of his natural affection 
(which indeed was very pleasant and delightful) coveted to 
disgrace every other to his own discontent : a scourge to 
Beauty, a traitor to Women, and an infidel to Love. 

This He, this creature, at length, falls in love with two at 
one instant ; yea, two of his nearest allies : and so indifferently 
[equally] yet outrageously, as what was commendable in the 
one, was admirable in the other. By which means, as not 
despised, not regarded ! if not deceived, not pitied ! They 
esteemed him as he was in deed, not words. He protested, 
they jested ! He swore he loved in sadness ; they in sooth 
believed, but seemed to give no credence to him : thinking 



3.*>4 T II E A R G U M E N T . ['Vf^; 

him so humorous as no resolution could be long good ; and 
holding this his attestation to them of affection in that 
kind, [no] more than his contesting against it before time. 

Thus overcome of that he seemed to conquer, he became 
a slave to his own fortunes. Laden [ed] with much misery, 
utter mischief seized upon him. He fell in love with another, 
a wedded Lady. Then with a fourth, named Vitullia. 
And so far was he imparadised in her beauty (She not re- 
comforting him) that he fell from Love to Passion, so to 
Distraction, then to Admiration [wonderment] and Con- 
templation, lastly to Madness. Thus did he act ihe. Tragical 
scenes, who only penned the Comical : became, if not as 
brutish as Action, as furious as Orlando. Of whose 
Humours and Passions, I had rather you should read them, 
than I act them ! 

In the end, by one, or rather by all, he was recovered. 
A Voice did mad him ; and a Song did recure him ! Four 
in one sent him out of this world ; and one with four 
redeemed him to the world. To whose unusual strains in 
Music, and emphatical emphasis in Love ; I will leave you 
to turn over a new leaf ! 

This only I will end with : 

Who, of Love should better write. 
Than he that Love learns to indite? 




385 




DA I P HANTUS, 
Proem 

Sing the old World in an infant story ! 
I sing the new World in an ancient ditty ! 
I sing this World ; yes, this World's shame 
and glory ! 
I sing a Medley of rigour and of pity ! 

I sing the Court's, City's, and the Country's fashions ! 
Yet sing I but of Love and her strange Passions ! 




I sing that anthem lovers sigh in sadness ! 

I sing sweet times of joys in wo[e]-ven verses ! 

I sing those lines, I once did act in madness ! 

I sing and weep ! (tears follow birth and hearses !) 

I sing a Dir(^c\ a Fury did indite it! 

I sing Myself! whilst I myself do write it. 

Eng. Gar. VII. 25 



3^6 D A I r II A N T u s 's Proem. [-^g^^; 

I in\-ocate, to grace my Artless labour, 

The faithful goddess, men call Memory 

(Tru(^ Poet's treasure, and their Wit's best favour) ; 

To deck my Muse with truest poesy ! 

Though Lovewrite well, yet Passionblinds th'aflection. 

Mail iieer rides right, thafs in the least subjection. 

Sweet Memory ! Soul's life, new life increasing ! 

The Eye of Justice ! Tongue of Eloquence ! 

The Lock of Learning! Fountain never ceasing! 

The Cabinet of Secrets ! Caske[t] of Sense ! 

Which Q-overnest Nature, teacheth Man his awe 1 
That art all Conscience, and yet rul'st by Law ! 

P)less thou, this Love Song-Air of my best wishes ! 
(Thou art the Parent nourisheth Desire !) 
Blow, gentle winds ! safe land me at my blisses ! 
Love still mounts high, though lovers not aspire. 

My Poem 's Truth I P'ond poets feign at pleasure ! 

A loving subject is a Prince's treasure. 




^Vi 




THE PASSIONS OF 
LOVE. 



N Venice fair, the city most admired ; 
Their lived a Gallant, who Daiphaxtus hight, 
Right nobly born, well lettered, loved, desired 
Of every Courtier in their most delight : 
So full of pleasance, that he seemed to be 
A man begot in Venus' infancy. 



His face was fair, full comely was his feature ; 

Lipped like the cherry, with a wanton's eye : 

A Mars in anger, yet a Venus' creature ; 

Made part of Cynthia, most of Mercury: 
A pitied soul, so made of Love and Hate, 
Though still beloved, in love unfortunate. 






Thus made by Nature, Fortune did conspiie 

To balance him, with weight of Cupid's wings ; 

Passant in Love, yet oft in great Desire ; 

Sudden in Love, not staid in anything. 

He courted all, not loved : and much did stri\ a 
To die for Love, yet never meant to wive ! 



388 \^DAipnANTus\ The Passions of Love. S^it'^^, 

As Nature made him fair, so likewise witty ; 
(Slie not content) his thoughts thus very fickle. 
Fortune that gained him, placed him in this city, 
To wheel his head, which she had made most tickle. 

Fortune made him beloved, and so distraught him ! 

His reins let forth, he fell; and Cupid caught him. 

Not far from Venice, in an Abbey fair, 
Well walled about, two worthy Ladies dwelt : 
Who virgins were, so sweet and debonair. 
The ground they trod on, of their odour smelt. 
Two virgin Sisters, matchless in a phere, 
Had lived virgins well nigh eighteen year. 

Burials, the elder sister 's named ; 

The other was Urania the wise. 

Nature for making them was surely blamed : 

Venus herself, by them all did despise ! 

Such beauties with such virtue ! so combined, 
That all exceeds, yet nought excels their mind. 

EuRiALiE so shows as doth the sun, 

When mounted on the continent of heaven : 

Yet oft she 's clouded ; but when her glory 's come, 

Two suns appear ! to make her glory even. 

Her smiles send brightness when the sun 's not bright ! 

Her looks give beauty, when the sun lends light I 

Modest and humble, of nature mild and sweet; 
Unmatched beauty with her virtue meeting : 
Proud that her lowly 'beisance doth re-greet 
With her chaste silence. \'irtue ever keeping. 

This is the sun, that sets before it rise ! 

This is a star ! nt) less are both her eves ! 



A Sc 
1604 



] \Paiphantus\ The Passions of Love. 389 



Her beauty peerless ! peerless is her mind ! 

Her body matchless ! matchless are her thoughts ! 

Herself but one ! but one like her, we find ! 

Her wealth 's her virtue! Such virtue is not bought! 

This is a heaven on earth, makes her divine ! 

This is the sun, obscures where it doth shine ! 

Urania next. O that I had that Art 
Could write her worth ! her worth no eye may see ! 
Or that her tongue (O heaven !) were now my heart, 
What silver lines in showers should drop from me ! 

My heart she keeps ! how can I then indite ? 

No heart-less creature can Love Passions write ! 

As a black veil upon the wings of morn, 
Brings forth a day as clear as Venus' face ; 
Or a fair jewel, by an Ethiope worn, 
Enricheth much the eye, which it doth grace : 

Such is her beauty, if it well be told ! 

Placed in a jetty chariot set with gold. 

Her hair. Night's canopy in mourning weeds 
Is still enthroned, when locked within is seen 
A Deity, drawn by a pair of steeds 
Like Venus' eyes ! And if the like have been, 

Her eyes two radiant stars, but yet divine ! 

Her face day's sun (heaven all !) if once they shine ! 

Upon the left side of this heavenly feature, 

In curious work, Nature hath set a seal, 

Wherein is writ. This i-s a matchless creature ! 

Where Wit and Beauty strives for the appeal : 

The Judges choosed are Love and Fancy. They rise, 
And looking on her, with her, left their eyes ! 



190 \_Daipiiantus\ The Passions of Love. [-^6^^; 

Her Wit and Beauty were at many frays, 

" Whether the deep impressions did cause ? " 

*' Nature ! " said Beauty ; Art, her Wit did praise : 

Love thought her Face ; her tongue had Truth's applause. 

Whilst they contend, Which was the hetter part ? 

I lent an eye ; She rohbed me of my heart 1 

Sisters these two are, like the Day and Night: 
Their glories, by their virtues they do merit, 
One as the Day to see the other's might ; 
The other's Night to shadow a high spirit. 

If all were Day, how could a lover rest ? 

Or if all Night, lovers were too much blest ! 

Both fair, as eke their bodies tall and slender : 
Both wise, yet silence shews their modesty : 
Both grave, although they both are young and tender : 
Both humble hearted, not in policy. 

So fair, wise, grave, and humble are esteemed; 

Yet what men see, the worst of them is deemed ! 

Nature that made them fair, doth love perfection. 
What Youth counts wisdom, Age doth bring to trial. 
Grave years in Youth, in Age needs no direction. 
A humble heart deserves, finds, no denial. ' 

Fairs ring their knells, and yet Fame never dies ! 

True judgement 's from the heart, not from the eyes ! 

These two, two sisters, cousins to this lover; 

He often courts, as was his wonted fashion. 

Who swears all 's fair, yet hath no heart to prove her, 

Seems still in Love or in a lover's Passion, 

Now learns this lesson ! and love-scoffers find it ! 

Cupid hits ri^^htcsl, wlicn Lovers do least mind it ! 



^i6u4.] \^Daifiiantus\ The Passions of Love. 391 

Although his guise were fashioned to his mind, 
And wording Love, as compliment he used ; 
Seemed still to jest at Love and lovers' kind. 
Never obtained, but where he was refused : 

Yet now, his words with wit so are rewarded ; 

He loves ! loves two ! loves all ! of none regarded. 



Now he that laughed to hear true lovers sigh. 

Can bite his lips, until his heart doth bleed ! 

Who jibed at all, loves all ! each day 's his night ! 

Who scorned, now weeps and howls ! writes his own meed ! 

He that would bandy Love, is now the ball ! 

Who feared no hazard, himself hath ta'en the fall ! 

Beauty and Virtue, who did praise the fashion ; 
Who, Love and Fancy thouglit a comedy : 
Now is turned Poet ! and writes Love in Passion ! 
His verses ht the bleeding Tragedy ! 

In willow weeds, right well he acts his part ! 

His Scenes are tears, whose embryon was his heart ! 

He loves, where Love to all doth prove disaster! 
His eyes no sooner see, but he 's straight blind ! 
His kindred, friends, or foes, he follows faster 
Than his own good ! He 's now but too too kind ! 

He that spent all, would fain find out Love's treasure ! 

Extremities are, for extremes the measure. 

Thus thinks he, of the words he spent in vain ; 

And wishes now, his tongue had eloquence ! 

He 's dumb ! all motion that a world could gain, 

A centre now without circumference ! 

Cupid, with words who fought ! would teach him Art, 
Hath lost his tongue; and with it, left his heart I 



392 \Daiphantus\ The Passions of Love, ['^.•^f^; 

He swears he loves ! (the heat doth prove the fire !) 
He weeps his Love, his tears shew his Affection. 
He writes his Love, his lines plead his Desire. 
He sings his Love, the ditty mourns the action. 

He sings, writes, weeps, and swears that he 's in sadness! 

It is believed, Not cured, Love turns to madness ! 

Love once dissembled, oaths are a grace most slender! 
Tears oft are heard, Ambassadors for Beauty ! 
Words writ in gold, an iron heart may render ! 
A Passion Song shews much more hope than duty ! 

Oaths spoke in tears ; words, song ; prove no true ditty : 

A feigned Love must find a feigned Pity ! 

Thus is the good Daiphantus like the fly, 
Who playing with the candle feels the flame. 
The smiles of scorn are lovers' misery : 
That soul 's most vex't, is grieved with his name. 

Though kind Daiphantus do most love protest ; 

Yet is his cross, still to be thought in jest ! 

Poor tortured lover! Like a perjured soul, 

Swears till he 's hoarse, yet never is believed ! 

(Who 's once a villain, still is counted foul I) 

O woful pity ! when with wind relieved. 

Learns this by wrote, Though Love nnconstant 6c, 
They must prove constant, will her comforts see ! 

Now to the humble heart of his dread Saint, 
LuKiALiE, he kneels ; but 's not regarded ! 
Then to Ukania sighs, till he grows faint : 
Such is her Wit, in silence he 's rewarded ! 

His humble voice, EuKiALiE accuseth ! 

His sighing Passion, Ukania rcfuseth I 



^S'.l [Daifi/antus] The Passions of Love. 393 

Then lifts he up his eyes, but Heaven frowneth \ 

Bows down his head, Earth is a mass of sorrow ! 

Runs to the seas ; the sea, it storms and howleth ! 

Hies to the woods, the birds sad tunes do borrow ! 

Heaven, Earth, sea, woods, and all things do conspire 
He burn in Love, yet freeze in his Desire ! 



The Ladies jest ! command him to feign still ! 
Tell him, how, one day, he may be in love ! 
That lover's reason hath not Love's free will ! 
Smile in disdain, to think of that he proves ! 

(O me, Daiphantus ! how art thou advised ? 

When he 's less pitied, then he is despised !) 

They hold this but his humour ! seem so wise ! 
And many lovers' stories forth do bring ! 
Court him with shadows, whilst he catcheth flies, 
Biting his fingers till the blood forth spring ! 

Then do they much commend his careless Passion ! 

Call him " a lover of our Courtiers' fashion 1 " 

All this they do in modesty; yet free 
From thinking him so honest, as in truth : 
Much less so kind, as to love two or three, 
Him near allied ; and he himself a youth ! 

Till with the sweat, which from his sufferings rise, 
His face is pearled, like the lights his eyes. 

Then with his look down-cast, and trembling hand, 
A High Dutch colour, and a tongue like ice, 
Apart with this Eurial^e to stand 
Endeavours he. This was his last device. 

Yet in so humble strains, this Gallant courts her; 

The wind being high, his breath it never hurts her ! 



394 \pAiriiANTus\ The Passions of Love. [Vlj'. 

Speechless thus stands he, till She feared him dead, 

And rubs his temples, calls and cries for aid. 

Water is fetched and spunged into his head : 

Who then starts up ; from dreaming, as he said, 
And craving absence of all, but this Saint, 
He 'gan to court her, but with a heart right faint. 



*' Bright Star of Phoebus ! Goddess of my thought ! 
Behold thy vassal, humbled on his knee ! 
I5ehold for thee, what gods and Art hath wrought, 
A man adoring! of Love, the lowest degree. 

I love ! I honour thee ! " No more ; there stayed 

As if foresworn ; even so, was he afraid ! 

EuRiALiE now spake, yet seemed in wonder, 
Her lips when parting, heaven did ope his treasure, 
" O do not, do not love ! I will not sunder 
A heart in two ! Love hath nor height nor measure ! 
Live still a virgin ! Then PlI be thy- lover 1 " 
Heaven here did close. No tongue could after move her, 

As if in heaven, he was ravished so. 
O love ! O voice ! O face ! which is the glory? 
O day! O night ! O Age ! O worlds of joy ! 
Of every part, true love might write a story. 

Convert my sighs, O to some angel's tongue. 

To die for Love is life ! Death is best young ! 

She gone, Ukania came. He, on the flower, 
r)Ut sight of her revived his hoIdIc fire: 
And as if Mars did thunder, words did shower! 
(Love speaks in heat, when 'tis in most Desire) 

She made him mad, whose sight had him rc\ived; 

Now speaks he plainly ! Storms past, the air is glide. 



A.sc.-| \jj^iipjjANTUs\ The Passions of Love. 395 



1604. 



" Why was I made, to bear such woe and grief? 
Why was I born, but in Love to be nourished ? 
Why then for Love (Love, of all virtues chief), 
And I not pitied, though I be not cherished ? 

What ! did my eyes offend in virtue seeing ? 

O no ! True Virtue is the lover's being 1 

*' Beauty and Virtue are the twins of life ; > 

Love is the mother which them forth doth bring. 
Wit with discretion ends the lover's strife. 
Patience with silence is a glorious thing. 

Love crowns a man, Love gives to all due merit ; 

Men without love are bodies without spirit. 

** Love to a mortal is both life and treasure. 
Love changed to Wedlock doubleth in her glory. 
Love is the gem, whose worth is without measure. 
Fame dies, if not entombed within Love's story. 

Man that lives, lives not, if he wants Content. 

Man that dies, dies not, if with Love's consent." 

Thus spake Daiphantus, and thus spake he well; 

Which wise Urania well did understand : 

So well she like it, as it did excel. 

Now graced she him with her white slender hand, 
With words most sweet, a colour fresh and fair. 
In heavenly speech, she 'gan his woes declare. 

" My good Daiphantus ! Love, it is no toy ! 
. Cupid, though blind, yet strikes the heart at last. 
His force, you feel ! whose power must breed your joy ; 
This is the meed for scoffs, you on him cast ! 

You love, who scorned ! your love, with scorn is quite ! 
You love, }et want ! your love, with want is spile ! 



;96 \pAirjiANTuii\ The Passions of Love, [-^g^^; 

" Love plays the wanton, where she means to kill. 
Love rides the fool, and spurs without direction. 
Love weeps like you, yet laughs at your good will. 
Love is, of all things, hut the true confection. 

Love is of everything ; yet itself 's but one thing. 

Love is anything, yet indeed is nothing. 

*' We virgins know this, though not the force of Love. 

For we two sisters live as in a cell : 

Nor do we scorn it, though we it not approve ; 

By prayer we hope, her charms for to repell ! 
And thus adieu ! But you, in Progress go, 
To find fit place to warble forth your woe. 

" Who first seeks mercy, is the last for grief," 
Thus did She part ; whose image sta}ed behind. 
He in a trance stands mute, finds no relief 
(For She was absent, whose tongue pleased his mind), 

But like a heartless and a hurtless creature, 

In admiration of so sweet a feature. 

At length looked up, his shadow only seeing. 
Sighs to himself and weeps, yet silent stands; 
Kneels, riseth, walks, all this without True Being, 
Sure he was there, though fettered in Love's bands. 
His lips departed, parted were his blisses : 
Yet for pure love, each lip the other kisses. 

Revived by this, or else Imagination, 
Recalls things past, the time to come laments ; 
Records his love, but with an acclamation ! 
Repents himself and all these accidents. 

Now with the wings of Love, he 'gins to raise. 

His Love to gain, this woman he doth praise. 



^i£:] \_DAiriiANTUs\ The Passions of Love. 397 

" Women than Men are purer creatures far ! 

The Soul of souls ! the blessed Gift of Nature ! 

To men, a heaven ! to men, the brightest star ! 

The pearl that 's matchless ! high, without all stature! 
So full of goodness, that Bounty waiteth still 
Upon their trencher ! feeds them with free will ! 

" Where seek we Virtue, learn true Art or Glory; 
Where find we Joy that lasteth, still is spending, 
But in sweet Women ? of man's life, the Story ! 
Alpha, they are ! Omega is their ending ! 

Their virtues shine with such a sun of brightness ! 

Yet he 's unwise, that looks in them for lightness ! " 

(O let my pen relate mine own decay ! 
There are, which are not, or which should not be. 
Some shaped like Saints, whose steps are not the way. 
O let my Verse not name their infamy ! 

These hurt not all, but even the wandering eye, 

Which fondly gapes for his own misery. 

These do not harm the honest or the just, 
The faithful lover, or the virtuous dame ; ■ 

But those whose souls be only given to lust, 
Care more for pleasure, than for worthy fame. 
But peace, my Muse ! For now, methinks I hear 
An angel's voice come warbling in my ear !) 

Not distant far, within a garden fair, 

The sweet Artesia sang unto her lute, 

Her voice charmed Cupid, and perfumed the air, 

Made beasts stand still, and birds for to be mute. 

Her voice and beauty proved so sad a ditty ; 

Who saw, was blind ! who heard, soon sued for pity ! 



;98 [_DAiriiAXTUs] The Passions of Love. ['\^^: 

This Lady was no vir^^in like the rest, 
Yet near allied. By Florence cit}- dwellin.ej 
(Nature and Art ; within her both were blest ; 
Music in her, and Love had his excelling). 

To visit her fair cousins oft she came ; 

Perhaps more jocund, but no whit to blame. 

Fortune had crossed her with a churlish Mate, 

Who Strymon hight. A Palmer was his sire, 

Full nobly born and of a wealthy state ; 

His son a child not born to his Desire. 

Thus was she crossed, which caused her thereby, 
Daiphantus' grief to mourn, by sympathy. 

Daiphantus hearing such a swan-tuned voice, 

Was ravished, as with angels' melody ; 

Though in this labyrinth blest, could not rejoice, 

Nor yet could see what brought this harmony. 
At length, this goddess ceased; began draw near, 
Who, when he saw ; he saw not, 'twas her sphere ! 

Away then crept he on his hands and knees, 

To hide himself: thought Venus came to plague him ! 

Which she espying, like the sun she stands; 

As with her beams, she thought for to assuage him. 

But like the sun, which gazed on blinds the eye, 

So he by hei'*! and so resolved to die. 

At this, in wonder softly did she pace it; 

Yet suddenly was stayed. His verses seized her. 

Which he late writ, forgot. Thus was he graced. 

She read them over, and the writing pleased her. 
For Cupid framed two mottoes in her heart : 
The one as Uian's, the other, for his dart. 



^fo+'J \P''^iP!i--^-^'Tus\ The Passions of Love. 399 

She read and pitied ; reading, Pity taught. 

She loved and hated ; hate to Love did turn. 

She smiled and wept ; her weeping Smiling brouglit. 

She hoped and feared ; her Hopes in fear did mourn. 
She read, loved, smiled, and hoped ; but 'twas in vain : 
Her tears, still dread ; and pity, hate did gain. 

She could have loved him, such true verses making; 
She might have loved him, and yet love beguiling. 
She would have kissed him, but feared his awaking ; 
She might have kissed him, and sleep sweetly smiling. 

She thus afeared, did fear what she most wished. 

He thus in hope, still hoped for that he missed. 

He looked ! They two, long each on other gazed ! 
Sweet silence pleaded what each other thought. 
Thus Love and Fancy both alike amazed. 
As if their tongues and hearts had been distraught. 

Artesia's voice thus courted him at length. 

The more she spake, the greater was his strength ! 

" Good gentle Sir ! your fortunes I bemoan, 

And wish my state so happy as to ease you ! 

But She that grieved you, She it is alone, 

Whose breath can cure, and whose kind words appease you ! 
Were I that She, heaven should my star extinguish, 
If you but loved me, ere I would relinquish. 

*' Yet, noble Sir ! I can no love protest. 

For I am wedded (O word full fraught with woe ! ) 

P)Ut in such manner as good love is blest, 

In honest kindness, I'll not prove your foe ! 

Mine own experience doth my counsel prove, 

I know to pity, yet not care to love ! 



400 \pAiriiAN'ius\ The Passions of Love. \^\l^;^. 

" A sister, yet Nature hath given me, 

A virgin true, right fair, and sweetly kind. 

I for her good, Fortune hath driven me 

To be a comfort. Your heart shall be her mind. 
My woes yet tell me, she is best a maid ! " 
And here she stopped her tears, her words thus stayed. 

Daiphantus then, in number without measure, 

Began her praises, which no pen can end. 

" O Saint ! O sun of heaven, and earth the treasure 1 

Who lives, if not thy honour to defend ? 

Ah me ! what mortal can be in love so strange, 
That wedding Virtue will a wand'ring range ? 

*' She, like the morning, is still fresh and fair. 
The Elements, of her, they all do borrow; 
The Earth, the Fire, the Waters, and the Air; 
Their strength, heat, moisture, liveliness. No sorrow 

Can Virtue change ! Beauty hath but one place. 

The heart 's still perfect ; though empaled the face. 

" O eyes ! no eyes, but stars still clearly shining ! 
O face ! no face but shape of angels' fashion 1 
O lips ! no lips, but bliss by kiss refining ! 
O heart ! no heart, but of true love right Passion ! 

O eyes, face, lips, and heart, if not too cruel ; 

To see, feel, taste, and love earth's rarest jewel." 



This said, he paused, new praises now devising, 
Kneels to Apollo for his skill and Art : 
When came the Ladies ! At which, he arising, 
'Twixt lip and lip, he had nor lips nor heart. 
His eyes, their eyes so sweetly did incumber: 
Although awaked, }et in a golden slumber. 



^6«4.] {_DAiPiiANrus\ The Passions of Love. 401 

Most like a lion raised from slumbering ease, 

He cast his looks, fall grimly them among. 

At length, he firmly knit what might appease 

His brow; looked stedfastly and long 

At one, till all their e>es with his eyes met alike 
On fair Vitullia, who his heart did strike. 

ViTULLiA fair, yet brown ; as mixed together 

As Art and Nature strove which was the purest. 

So sweet her smilings were, a grace to either ! 

That heaven's glory in that face seemed truest. 
Venus, excepted when the god her wooed, 
Was ne'er so fair! so tempting, yet so good ! 

Wonder not, mortals, though the Poets feign ! 

The Muses' graces were in this She's favour : 

Nor wonder, though She strove his tongue to gain ! 

For I lose mine, in thinking of his labour. 

" Well may he love," I write, " and all Wits praise her. 
She 's so all humble. Learning cannot raise her 1 " 

Daiphantus oft sighed : " Oh ! " oft said " Fair! " 
Then looks and sighs, and then cries wonderful ; 
Thus did he long, and truly 'twas not rare : 
The object was ! which made his mind so dull. 
Pray pardon him ! for better to cry " Oh ! " 
Than feel that Passion which caused him sigh so. 



Now, all were silent, not alone this Lover, 

Till came Ismenio, brother to this Saint, 

Whose haste made sweat, his tongue he could not prove her, 

For this against him, that his heart was faint : 
Thus all amazed, none knowing any cause, 
IsMiiN'io breathless, here had time to pause. 
eng. cau. VII. 26 



|02 [_DA/r/ij.yTr.s] The Passions of Love. [^•J.l 

A.t length, IsMEXio, who had wit and skill, 

[Questioned the reason of this strong effect : 

^t last related, haste outwent his will. 

He told them, "He was sent, them to direct. 
Where hunting sports, their eyes should better please! " 
Who first went forth, Daiphaxtus most did ease. 

They gone, Daiphantus to his standish highs ! 
Thinks, in his writs Vitullia's beauties were : 
But what he wrote, his Muse not justifies, 
Bids him take time ! "Love badly writes in fear! 

Her worthy praise, if he would truly write, 

Her kisses' nectar must the same indite." 

" Art, and sweet Nature ! Let your influence drop 
From me like rain ! Yes, yes, in golden showers ! 
(Whose end is Virtue, let him never stop !) 
But fall on her, like dew on sprinkling flowers! 
That both together meeting, may beget 
An Orphi:us ! two gems in a soil richly set ! " 

Thus ravished, then distracted, as was deemed, 
Not taught to write of Love in this extreme ; 
In love, in fear; yea, trembling (as it seemed). 
If praising her, he should not keep the mean ! 
Thus vexed, he wept ! His tears intreated pity, 
But Love unconstant, tunes a woful ditty. 

Now kneels to Venus. Faithfulness protested 
To this, none else ! This was his only Saint ! 
Vowed e'er his scr\ ice, or to be arrested 
To Venus' censure ! Thus he left to faint. 

His love brought Wit. and Wit engendered Spirit; 

True Love and Wit thus learned him to indite. 



1oo4.'] lD.!/r//.ixTus'] The Passions of Love. 403 

"As the mild lamb runs forth from shepherd's fold, 
By ravenous wolves is cau^^ht and made a prey ; 
So is my Sense, by which Love taketh hold, 
Tormented more than any ton<(ue can sa}'. 

The difference is, they tortured so, do die ! 

I feed the torment breeds my misery. 

" Consumed by her I live, such is her ,!:^lory ! 

Despised of her I love, I more adore her ! 

I'll ne'er write ought, but of her virtue's story ! 

Beauty unblasted is the eye's rich storer. 

If I should die, O who would ring love's knell ? " 
Faint not, Daiphantus ! Wise men love not so well I 

" Like heaven's artist, the astronomer, 
Gating on stars, oft to the earth doth fall : 
So I, Daiphantus, now Lover's Harbinger, 
Am quite condemned to Love's funeral ! 

Who falls by women, by them oft doth rise ; 

Ladies have lips to kiss, as well as eyes ! " 

But tush, thou fool ! thou lov'st all thou seest. 

Who once thou lovest, thou should'st change her never! 

Constant in love, Daiphantus, see thou beest ! 

It thou hope comfort. Love but once, and ever! 

" Fortune ! O be so good to let me find 

A lady living, of this constant mind ! " 

" O, I would wear her in my heart's heart-gore ! 
And place her on the continent of stars ! 
Think heaven and earth, like her had not one more ! 
Would fight for her till all my face were scars ! 

But if that women be such fickle Shees ; 

Men may be like them in infirmities ! " ' 



404 [^Da/pi/axtu.s] The Passions of Love. [^ 

O no, Daiphantus ! Women are not so 
'Tis but their shadows, pictures merely painted ! 
Then turn poor lover ! " O heaven ! not to my woe ! 
Then to Vitullia! " With that word, he fainted. 

Yet she that wounds, did heal. Like her, no heaven. 

Odds in a man, a woman can make even ! 



** O my Vitullia 1 Let me write that down ! 

O sweet Vitullia ! Nature made thee sweet 1 

O kind Vitullia ! Truth hath the surest ground ! 

I'll weep or laugh, so that our hearts may meet ! " 
Love is not always merry, nor still weeping : 
A drop of each, Love's joys are sweets in sleeping. 

" Her name, in golden letters, on my breast I'll 'grave! 
Around my temples, in a garland wear ! 
My Art shall be, her favour for to have ! 
My Learning still her honour high to rear ! 

My lips shall close but to her sacred name ! 

My tongue be silent but to spread her fame! 

" In woods, groves, hills, Vitullia's name shall ring! 
In meadows, orchards, gardens, sweetest and fair! 
I'll learn the birds her name alone to sing I 
All quires shall chant it in a heavenly air ! 

The Day shall be her Usher! Night, her Page! 

Heaven, her Palace ! and this Earth, her Stage! 

"Virgin's pure chaslcncss, in her eyes shall be ! 

Women, true love, irom her true mind shall learn ! 

W^idows, their mourning in her face shall see ! 

Children, their dut\ in her speech discern ! 
And all of Ihcm in lo\c with each, but I : 
Who fear her love, will make me fear tt) die! 



Sc. 

604. 



^16^4] \_DAipnAX7us\ The Passions of Love, 



405 



" My Orisons are still to please this creature ! 
My Valour sleeps but when She is defended ! 
My Wits still jaded but when I praise her feature ! 
My Life is hers ; in her begun and ended ! 

O happy day wherein I wear not willow ! 

Thrice blessed night, wherein her breast's my pillow ! 

" I'll serve her, as the Mistress of all Pleasure ! 

ril love her, as the Goddess of my soul ! 

ril keep her, as the Jewel of all treasure ! 

Pll live with her, yet out of Love's control ! 
That all may know, I will not from her part, 
Pll double lock her in my lips and heart ! 

If e'er I sigh, it shall be for her pity ! 
If e'er I mourn, her funeral draws near! 
If e'er I sing, her virtue is the ditty ! 
If e'er I smile, her beauty is the sphere ! 

All that I do, is that I may admire her! 

All that I wish, is that I still desire her ! " 

But peace, Daiphantus ! Music is only sweet. 

When without discord. A consort makes a heaven. 

The ear is ravished when true voices meet. 

Odds, but in music, never makes things even. 
In voices' difference breeds a pleasant ditty, 
In Love, a difference brings a scornful pity. 

Whose was the tongue, Eurial.e defended ? 

Whose was the wit, Ukania did praise ? 

Whose were the lips, Artesia's voice commended ? 

Whose was the heart loved all ? all crowned with bays ? 

" Sure 'twas myself! What did I ? 1 tiemhlc ! 

Yet I'll not weep I Wise men may love dis^emble. 



4o6 \_D AiniANT us\ The Passions of Love. [*\-^'' 



604. 



** Fie, no ! Fond Love hath ever his reward ! 

A sea of tears ! a world of sighs and groans ! 

Ah me ! Vitullia will have no regard 

To ease my grief, and cure me of my moans ; 
If once her ear should hearken to that voice. 
Relates my fortunes in Love's fickle choice. 

I')Ut now, I will, their worth with hers declare, 
That Truth by Error may have her true being; 
Things good are lessened by the thing that "s rare. 
Beauty increaseth by a blackness seeing. 

Whoso is fair and chaste, they, sure, are best ! 

Such is Vitullia ! such are all the rest ! 



" But she is fair, and chaste, and wise." What then, 

So are they all, without a difference ! 

"She 's fair, chaste, wise, and kmd, yes, to all men." 

The rest are so ! Number makes Excellence. 

" She 's fair, chaste, wise, kind, rich, yet humble." 
They three, her equal ! Virtue can never stumble. 

" Vitullia is the sun ; they stars of night ! " 
Yet night is the bosom wherein the sun doth rest. 
" The moon herself borrows ot the sun's light," 
All by the stars take counsel to be blest. 

The day 's the sun, yet Cupid can it blind ; 

The stars at night. Sleep cures the troubled mind. 

" She is a rose, the fairer, so the sweeter ! 
She is a lute, whose belly tunes the music ! 
She is my prose, yet makes me speak all metre ! 
She is my life, yet sickens me with physic 1 

She is a virgin, that makes her a jewel ! 

She will not love me, therein She is cruel! 



A. Sc 



1604:] \pAiriiANTUs\ The Passions of Love. 407 

" EuRiALiE is like Sleep when one is weary 
Urania is like a golden Slumber. 
Artesia's voice, like Dreams that make men merry. 
ViTULLiA, like a Bed, all these encumber. 

I. Sleep, 2. Slumber, 3. Dreams upon a 4, Bed are best ; 

First, Second, Third, but in the Fourth is blest. 



" but ViTULLiA, what ? She 's wondrous pretty ! 
O I, and what ? so is She very fair ! 
O yes, and what ? She 's like herself most witty ! 
And yet, what is She ? She is all but air ! 

What can earth be, but earth ? So we are all ! 

Peace, then, my Muse ! Opinion oft doth fall ! 

" EuRiAL.E, I honour for humility I 

Urania, I reverence for her wit ! 

Artesia, I adore for true agility ! 

Three Graces ior the goddesses most fit. 
Fach of these gifts are blessed in their faces, 
O, what's Vitullia, who hath all these Graces ? " 

She is but a Lady ! So are all the rest. 
As pure, as sweet, as modest, yea as loyal ; 
Yes, She 's the Shadow (shadows are the least !), 
Which tells the Hour of Virtue by her dial. 

By her, men see there is on earth a heaven ! 

By them, men know her virtues are matched even ! 

In praising all, much time he vainly spent, 

Yet thought none worthy but Vitullia ; 

Then called to mind, he could not well repent 

The love he bare the wise Urania. 

FuRiALiE, Artesia, all, such beauties had. 

Which as they pleased him, made him well nigh mad. 



4o8 \_DAiriTANrus\ Tiik Passions of Love. ['^■^^ 

EuRiAL.E, her beauty, his eyesight harmed ! 

Urania, her wit, his tongue incensed ! 

Artesia, her voice, his ears had charmed ! 

Thus poor DAiPiiANTUSwas, with love tormented. 
Vitullia's beauty, as he did impart, 
The others' virtues vanquished his heart. 



At length, he grew as in an ecstasy 

'Twixt Love and Love, Whose beauty was the truer ? 

His thoughts thus diverse, as in a lunacy, 

He starts and stares, to see Whose was the purer? 
Oft treads a ma;?e, runs, suddenly then stays, 
Thus with himself, himself makes many frays. 

Now with his fingers, like a barber snaps ! 

Plays with the fire-pan, as it were a lute ! 

Unties his shoe-strings ! Then his lips, he laps ! 

Whistles awhile, and thinks it is a flute ! 
At length, a glass presents it to his sight. 
Where well he acts fond Love in Passions right. 

His chin he strokes ! swears " beardless men kiss best ! " 
His lips anoints, says " Ladies use such fashions ! " 
S]-)its on his napkin, terms that "the bathing jest." 
Then on the dust, describes the Courtiers' Passion. 

'i'hen humble calls, " Though they do still aspire ; 

Ladies then fall, when Lords rise by desire." 

Then straddling goes, says, " Frenchmen fear no bears ! " 
Vows " he will travel to the Siege of Brest ! " 
Swears, " Captains, they do all against the hair ! " 
Protests " Tobacco is a smoke-dried jest ! " 
Takes up his pen for a tobacco pipe. 
Thus all besmeared, each lip, the other wipe. 



^■^':] \Paipiiantus\ The Passions of Love. 409 



1604. 



His breath, he thinks the smoke ! his tongue, a coal ! 

Then runs for bottle-ale to quench his thirst ; 

Runs to his ink-pot, drinks ! then stops the hole ! 

And thus grows madder than he was at first. 
Tasso he finds, by that of Hamlet thinks 
Terras him a madman, then of his inkhorn drinks! 

Calls players " fools ! The Fool, he judgeth wiseth, 
Will learn them action out of Chaucer's Pander, 
Proves of their poets bawds, even in the highest. 
Then drinks a health ! and swears it is no slander." 

Puts off his clothes ! his shirt he only wears ! 

Much like mad Hamlet, thus, as Passion tears ! 

" Who calls me forth, from my distracted thought ? 
O Cerberus ! if thou ? I prithee speak ! 
Revenge, if thou ? I was thy rival ought ! 
In purple gores, I'll make the ghosts to reek ! 

ViTULLiA ! ViTULLiA, be thou still ! 

I'll have revenge, or harrow up my will I 

" I'll fallow up the wrinkles of the earth ! 
Go down to hell, and knock at Pluto's gate ! 
I'll turn the hills to valleys ! make a dearth 
Of virtuous honour to eternal Fate ! 

I'll beat the winds, and make the tides keep back ! 

Reign in the sea, that lovers have no wrack ! 

*' Yes, tell the Earth, ' It is a murderer ! 
Hath slain Vitullia! ' O Vitulll\'s dead! 
I'll count blind Cupid for a conjurer. 
And with wild horses will I rend his head I 

I, with a pickaxe, will pluck out his brains ! 

Laugh at this boy! ease lovers of much pains! 



4IO \Paipiiaxjus\ The Passions of Love. \^[^^;, 

" O then, I'll fly ! I'll swim ! yet stay, and then 
I'll ride the moon, and make the clouds my horse ! 
Make me a ladder of the heads of men, 
Climb up to heaven ! Yes, my tongue will force 

To gods and angels ! O, I'll never end. 

Till for ViTULLiA, all my cries I spend ! 



" Then I, like a Spirit of pure Innocence, 

I'll be all white ! and yet behold I'll cry 

* Revenge ! ' O lovers ! this my sufference ; 

Or else for love, for love, a soul must die ! 
EuRiAL^ 1 Urania! Artesia ! so! — " 
Heart rent in sunder, with these words of woe. 

" But soft, here comes ! Who comes ? and not calls out 

Of rape and murder, love and villainy ? 

Stay, wretched man ! Who runs ? doth never doubt 

It is thy soul ! thy Saint ! thy deity ! 

Then call the birds to ring a mourning Knell, 
For mad Daiphantus, who doth love so well ! 

" sing a song, parted in parcels three, 
I'll bear the burden still of all your grief; 
Who is all Woe, can tune his misery 
To discontents ; but not to his relief. 

O kiss her ! kiss her ! And yet do not do so ! 

They bring some joy, but with short joys, long woe ! 

Upon his knees, "O goddesses behold 
A caitiff wretch bemoaning his mishap ! 
If ever pity were hired without gold. 
Lament Daiphantus, once in Fortune's lap I 

Lament Daiphantus, whose good deeds now slumber! 

Lament a lover, whose woe no tongue can number ! 



^'^"J \P^^ifiiA^^TUs\ The Passions of Love. 411 



1604. 



*' My woes — " There did he stay, fell to the ground, 
Rightly divided into blood and tears, 
As if those words had given a mortal wound, 
So lay he foaming, with the weight of cares. 
Who this had seen, and seeing had not we[)t, 
Their hearts were, sure, from crosses ever kept ! 

The Ladies all, who late from hunting came, 
Untimely came to view this Map of Sorrow. 
Surely all wept ! and sooth it was no shame, 
For, from his grief, the world might truly borrow : 

As he lay speechless grovelling, all undressed ; 

So they stood weeping, Silence was their best. 

IsMENio with these Ladies bare a part, 
And much bemoaned him, though he knew not why ; 
But kind compassion struck him to the heart, 
To see him mad. Much better see one die ! 
Thus walks Ismenio, and yet oft did pause. 
At length, a writing made him know the cause. 

He read, till words, like thunder, pierced his heart ; 
He sighed, till Sorrow seemed itself to mourn ; 
He wept till tears like ysacles [icicles' did part. 
He pitied so, that pity, hate did scorn. 

He read to sigh, and weep for pity's sake ; 

The less he read, the less his heart did quake. 

At length resolved, he up the writing takes 
And to the Ladies travails as with child ; 
The birth was Love, such love as discord makes. 
The midwife Patience ; thus in words full mild. 

He writ with tears that which with blood was writ ; 

The more he read, the mure they pitied it. 



412 [_DAiriiANTUs\ The Passions of Love. \^^^% 

They look upon Daiphantus, he not seeing : 
And wondered at him, but his sense was parted. 
They loved him much, though little was his being, 
And sought to cure him, though he was faint-hearted, 

IsMENio thus, with speed resolves to ease him ; 

By a sweet song, his sister should appease him ' 



IsMENio was resolved he would be eased. 
And was resolved of no means but by Music, 
Which is so heavenly that it hath released 
The danger oft, not to be cured by physic. 
Her tongue and hand thus married together. 
Could not but please him, who so loved either. 

But first before his madness were allayed, 
They offered incense at Dl\na's shrine, 
And much besought her, now to be apaid ; 
Which was soon granted to these saints divine : 

Yet so, that mad Daiphantus must agree 

Never to love, but live in chastity. 

Thus they adjured him, by the gods on high, 
Never henceforth to shoot with Cupid's quiver! 
Nor love to feign : for there 's no remedy. 
If once relapsed, then was he mad for ever ! 

Tortured Daiphantus, now a sign did make; 

And kind Ismexio this did undertake. 

Then 'gan Artesia to play upon her lute, 
Whose voice sang sweetly, now a mourning ditty; 
Love her admired, though he that loved were mute, 
Cupid himself feared he should sue for pity. 

O wondrous virtue ! Words spoken are but wind ; 

But sung to Prick Song, th.ey are joys divine ! 



^i'£] [/^-?/^/A?-V7-6^6-] The Passions of Love. 41, 

I heard her sing, but still methought I dreamed. 

I heard her play, but I methought did sleep. 

The Day and Night, till now, were never weaned. 

Venus and Dian ravished, both did weep. 
They which each hated, now agreed to say 
This was the goddess both of night and day. 



My heart and ears, so ravished with the voice 

I still forgot, what still I heard her sing : 

The tune, surely, of Sonnets, this was all the choice. 

Poets do keep it as a charming thing. 

What think you of the joys that Daiphantus had, 
When for such music, I would still be mad I 

The birds came chirping to the windows round, 
And so stood still, as if they ravished were ; 
Beasts forth the forest came, brought with the sound ; 
The lion laid him down as if in fear. 

The fishes in fresh rivers swam to shore ; 

Yea, had not Nature stayed them, had done more. 

This was a sight, whose eyes had never seen ; 

This was a voice, such music ne'er was heard ; 

This Paradise was it, where who had been, 

Might well have thought of hell, and not afeard. 
Sure, hell itself was heaven, in this sphere, 
Madmen, wild beasts, and all here tamed were. 

Like as a king, his chair of state ascendcth, 
Being newly made a god upon the earth. 
In state amounts, till step by step he endeth, 
Thinks it to heaven a true-ascending birth. 
So hies Daiphantus, on his legs and feet, 
As if Daiphantus now some god should meet. 



414 \_DAiriiAXTUs\ The Passions of Love. [^^5* 

He looks upon himself, not without wonder. 

He wonders at himself, what he mi^^ht be. 

He laughs unto himself: thinks he 's aslumber. 

He weeps unto himself, himself to see. 

And sure to hear and see what he had done 
Might make him swear but now the world begun. 



Fully revived, at last Artesia ceased. 
When birds and beasts so hideous noise did make, 
That almost all turned fury, fear was the least ; 
Yea, such a fear as forced them cry and quake ; 
Till that Daiphantus, more of reason had 
Than they which moaned him, lately being mad. 

He with more joy than words could well declare. 
And with more words than his new tongue could tell, 
Did strive to speak (such was his love and care 
Thus to be thankful) ; but yet knew not well 
Whether his tongue (not tuned unto his heart), 
Or modest silence, would best act his part ? 

But speak he will ! Then give attentive ear 

To hear him tell a woful lover's story ! 

His hands and eyes to heaven up did he rear, 

Grief taught him speech, though he to speak were sony 
But whatsoever be a Lover's Passion, 
Daiphantus speaks his, in a mourning fashion. 

As o'er the mountains walks the wandering soul, 

Seeking for rest in his unresting spirit, 

So good Daiphantus, thinking to enrol 

Himself in grace, by telling of Love's merit 
Was so distracted, how he should commend it, 
Where he began, he wished still to end it. 



^i6o4.] \P-m'i^^-^"T^'^^ The Passions of Love. 415 

" EuRiAL.E, my e3'es are hers in right ! 

Urania, my tongue is as her due ! 

Artesia, my ears to her I 'dite ! 

My heart to each ! and yet my heart to you, 
To you, Vitullia ! to you, and all the rest. 
Who once me cursed, now to make me blest ! 

" I Beauty and 2 Wit, did i wound and 2 pierce my heart, 

3 Music and 4 Favour, 3 gained and 4 kept it sure : 

Love led by Fancy to the 4 last I part. 

Love led by Reason to the i first is truer. 

I Beauty and 2 Wit first conquered, made me yield, 
3 Music and 4 Favour rescued got the field. 

**To 2 Wit and i Beauty, my first love I give ! 

3 Music and 4 Favours, my second love have gained ! 

All made me mad, and all did me relieve, 

Though one recured me, when I was sustained. 

Thus, troth to say, to All I love did owe ; 

Therefore to All my love I ever vow ! " 

Thus to the first i and 2, his right hand he did tender : 
His left hand to the 3 and 4 ; last most lovingly 4. 
His tongue kind thanks, first to the last did render, 
The whiles his looks were bent indifferently. 

Thus he salutes All : and to increase his blisses, 
From lip to lip, each Lady now he kisses. 

IsMENio in humble wise salutes he. 
With gracious language he returns his heart. 
His words so sweetly to his tongue now suits he. 
As what he speaks shew Learning with good Art. 

IsMENio pleased Daiphantus, Daiphantus Ail ; 

When love gains love for love, this Love we call ! 



4i6 \pAirnAXTUs\ The Passions of Love, {^-^o^ 

Urania now bethought what was protested 

By young Ismenio at Diana's shrine, 

Conjured Daiphantus that, no more he jested 

With Love or Fancy ! for they were Divine : 
And if he did, that there they all would pray 
He still might live in love, both night and day ! 



This grieved him much (but folly 'twere to grieve !) 
His now obedience shewed his own free will. 
He swore " he would not love, in shew, achieve ! 
But live a virgin, chaste and spotless still. 

Which said, such music suddenly delighted, 

As all were ravished, and yet all affrighted. 

Here parted all, not without joy and sadness. 
Some wept, some smiled ; a world it was to hear them ! 
Both springs here met. Woe here was clothed with gladness. 
Heaven was their comfort. It alone did cheer them. 

Daiphantus from these springs, some fruit did gather. 

Experience is an infant, though an ancient father ! 

"Sweet Lady I know the Soul looks through our eyesights ! 
Content lives not in shews or beauty seeing ! 
Peace, not from number, nor strength in high spirits ! 
Joy dies with Virtue, yet lives in Virtue's being! 

Beauty is masked, where Virtue is not hidden ! 

Man still desires that fruit, he *s most forbidden ! 

" Jewels, for virtue, not for beauty prized ! 
What 's seldom seen breeds wonder, we admire it ! 
King's lines are rare, and therefore well advised. 
Wise men, not often talk, Fools still desire it. 

Women are books ! Kept close, they hold much treasure ; 

Unclasped, sweet ills ! Most woe lies hid in pleasure. 



A.Sc 



V5:] \_DAipnANTus\ The Passions of Love. 417 

" Who studies Arts alike, can he prove Doctor ? 

Who surfeits, hardly lives ! drunkards recover ! 

Whose will 's his law, that conscience needs no Proctor ! 

When men turn beasts, look there for brutish lovers ! 
Those eyes are pore-blind, look equally on any 
Though 't be a virtue to hinder one by many. 

** Who gains by travel, lose Lordships for their Manors, 
Must Tarquin ravish some ? Hell on that glory ! 
Whose life 's in healths, death soonest gains those banners! 
Lust still is punished, though Treason write the story ! 

A rolling eye, a globe, new worlds discover ! 

Who still wheels round is but a damned lover. 

** Doth Faith and Troth lie bathing ? Is Lust, pleasure ? 

Can commons be as sweet as land enclosed ? 

Then virgin sin may well be counted pleasure ! 

Where such lords rule, who lives not ill-disposed ! 
True Love 's a Phoenix, but One until it dies : 
Lust is a Cockatrice in all, but in her eyes." 

Here did he end more blessed than his wishes. 
(Fame 's at the high, when Love indites the vStory) 
The private life brings with it heavenly blisses. 
Sweet Contemplation much increaseth glory. 

ril leave him to the learning of Love's spell ! 

" Better part friends, that follow fiends to hell ! " 

IsMENio, with ViTULLiA Went together, 

Perhaps both wounded with blind Cupid's dart; 

Yet durst they not relate their love to either, 

Love if once pitied, pierceth to the heart: 
But, sure, Vitullia is so fair a mark, 
Cupid would court her, though but by the dark. 

E.\G. Gar. VII. 27 



41 8 \_DAiriiA.YTrs\ The Passions of Love. S^-^^"' 



604. 



Artrsia, she must j^o, tlie more She 's j:^rieved, 

To churlish Stkvmon, her adopted Mate ; 

Cupid, though bhnd, yet pitied and relieved 

This modest Lady with some happy fate. 

For what but Virtue, which doth all good nourish, 
Could brook her fortunes, much less love and cherish. 

Burials, with good Urania stayed, 
Where Virtue dwells, they only had their being ; 
Beauty and Wit still fear, are not dismayed, 
For where they dwell. Love ever will be prying. 

These two were one. All good, each could impart. 

One was their fortune, and one was their heart. 

Beauty and Virtue were true friends to either. 

Heaven is the sphere where all men seek for glory. 

Earth is the grave where sinners join together. 

Hell keeps the book, enrols each lustful stor}-. 
Live as we will, Death makes, of all conclusion: 
Die then to live ! or life is thy confusion. 

Beauty and Wit in these, fed on Affection. 

Labour and Industry were their twins of life. 

Love and True Bounty were in their subjection, 

Their bodies, with their spirits, had no strife. 

Such were these two, as grace did them defend : 
Such are these two, as with these two I end. 

FINIS. 

"bson A movi scd Virtuti. 



419 



The Passionate Maris Pilgrimage, 

Supposed to be written by one at 
the point of death. 




IvE me my Scalop Shell of quiet. 
My Staff of faith to walk upon, 
My Scrip of joy, immortal diet ! 
My Bottle of salvation, 
My Gown of glory, hope's true gage. 
And thus I'll take my Pilgrimage ! 

Blood must be my body's balmer. 

No other balm will there be given ! 

Whilst my Soul, like a white Palmer, 

Travels to the land of heaven. 

Over the silver mountains, 

Where spring the nectar fountains : 

And there I'll kiss 

The bowl of bliss, 

And drink my eternal fill 

On every milken hill ! 

My Soul will be a dry before; 

But, after it, will ne'er thirst more ! 

And by the happy blissful way, 

More peaceful pilgrims I shall see 

That have shook off their gowns of clay, 

And go apparelled fresh like me. 

I'll bring them first 

To slake their thirst, 

And then to taste those nectar suckets 

At the clear wells 

Where sweetness dwells, 

Drawn up by Saints in cr}stal buckets. 



42 O Tlir. P ASST0NA7 E M A n' S PlLGRlMAGE. \^^l^ 



604. 



And when our bottles and all we, 
Are filled with immortality, 
Then the holy paths we'll travel. 
Strewed with rubies thick as f^ravel, 
Ceilings of diamonds, sapphire floors, 
High walls of coral, and pearl bowers. 

From thence, to Heaven's bribeless Hall, 
Where no corrupted voices brawl. 
No conscience molten into gold ; 
Nor torged accusers bought and sold. 
No cause delerred, nor vain spent journey; 
For there, Christ is the King's Attorney, 
Who pleads tor all without degrees ; 
And he hath angels, but no lees ! 
When the grand twelve million Jury, 
Of our sins and siniul fury, 
'Gainst our souls, black verdicts give : 
Christ pleads his death, and then we live ! 
Be thou, my speaker, taintless Pleader ! 
Unblotted Lawyer ! true Proceeder ! 
Thou movest salvation, even for alms ! 
Not with a bribed lawyer's palms. 

And this is my eternal Plea, 

To Him that made heaven, earth, and sea ; 

Seeing my flesh must die so soon, 

And want a head to dine next noon ; 

Just at the stroke, when my veins start and spread, 

Set on my Soul, an e\crlasting head ! 

Then am I ready, like a Palmer fit 

To tread those blest paths, which before I v>rit. 

FINIS. 



A true and exact Account 
of 

The Retaking of a Ship, called 

The Friends' Adve?iture^ of Topsham, 
from the 

FRENCH; 

After she had been taken six days, and they 
were upon the coasts of France with it four days. 

Where 

One Englishman a7td a boy set upon Seven 

Frenchmen^ killed tivo of them^ took the other 

Five -prisoners^ and brought the ship 

and them safe to England. 

Their Majesties^ Customs of the said ship amounted to £\,ooo and upwards. 
Performed and written by 

ROBERT LYDE, Mate of the same ship. 
L O N D O TV, 

Printed for R. Baldwin, near the Oxford Arjns., in Warwick lane. 

1693. 



42, 




Courteous Reader^ 




Here present yott zuitli a token of GOD's 
almighty goodiiess in 7'eiievi7ig me, by His 
special Providence, from the barbarity, in- 
Jiinnanity, and most crnel slavery of the Afost 
Christian Turk of France : whose delight it is, to make 
his oivn subjects, slaves; and his chi( f study to put 
prisojiers of war to the most tedious and cruel lingering 
deaths of hunger and cold, as I have experimentally, to 
my own damage^ both felt and seen, by a four months 
confinement in his country. lJ'7ie7'eas, by their cruel 
usage, I was reduced to the last gasp of life : but, 
through the merciful goodness of GOD, I did recover ; 
notwithstanding that of 600 prisoners, upivards of 400 
were starved to death, as by the sequel moi'c fully luill 
appear. 

IVJiat I have zvritten is really matter of fact : and it 
had never appeared in print, were it not to vindicate 
myself, and to free myself from the many calumnies 
and aspersio7is of unreasonable men : who have not so 
much civility as to commend the action ; but, on the con- 



424 Address to the couinT:uus Reader. [^^^^u^^ 



6v3- 



trary, tell the World, that I attacked the Frciichmcn in 
cold blood, and murdered the two men I fairly killed ; 
and that the spirits of them have haunted me ever since^ 
and will till I am hanged. 

Others say, that I retook the ship without a Com- 
mission, and I might have as well taken any other ship, 
and so been hanged for a pirate. 

And others, more tmreasonably, say, that the boy 
solicited tne, for many days together, to stand by him in 
the attempt, before I consented to it. 

And others say, that I had the help of the Devil to 
bring home the ship. 

And therefore to convince these, and to satisfy others ; 
I have hej^e represented you with an exact Relation of the 
zvhole matter of fact., with ajt account of my bringing 
the ship and prisone7's home together, also zuith the in- 
gratittide and unkindness of the ozuners of the ship and 
cargo to me. 

It is not so methodical as I could wish it was ; but 
I hope your candour zuill excuse it : for it was not 
ambition, but respect to my native cotuitry, together with 
the reasons befoi'e Jdntcd, that prompted me to make it 
public. 

I shall detain you no longer : but zuishing prospcj'ity 
to Their Alajestics, and the settlement and happiness of 
these nations, I subscribe myself. 
Courteous Reader, 

Your cordial and real friend., 

ROBERT L Y D E . 



4^5 


i3!^^m':Mm^'m£^m^^^sk^im\ 


^^^^^B 



A true and exact Account of the rctahinf^ of the 

Friends' Adventure, of Topsham, from the Frejtch ; 

after she had been taken six days, and npoji 

the coast of France fonr days : 

by one Englishman 

and a boy. 




T IS natural for all men living to have a certain 
kind of a natural affection for the country 
from whence they first have their being : and 
every man ought as much to vindicate his 
native country as he would his own posterity ! 
for the fall or ruin of the one is the Prodromus 
of the other; besides the duty and allegiance 
which we owe, by GOD's command, to our 
most gracious Sovereigns, the King \\ViLLiAM III.] and 
Queen \Mary]. 

And how much we ought, at this time particularly, to fight 
in vindication of all, I presume none can be ignorant of. For 
if the enemy fall upon and assault us, with all the strength 
they have, we ought in like manner to resist as powerfully: 
and if unhappily they prove victors at any time, this book 
will inform you how cruelly they use their prisoners of war, 
contrary to the ancient custom of nations. The very report 
of which, before I experimentally knew their tyranny, did so 
exasperate me against them, that if I could possibly have 
had any assistance, next to Providence, to have stood by me, 
I would never have gone into France, a captive at all ! for I 
had resolved to myself rather to die upon the deck fighting, 
than ever to be subject to those that, NiiRO like, rejoice over 



426 LVDK, A PRISONER IN FrANCE, IN OcT. I 689. ['^^ ^;v<J^; 

tliem that lie lan/i^uishin.cj under their torments. And so I 
will lirst give you an account of my being taken the first 
time. 



In the month of February, 1689, I [Robert Lyde, a native 
of Topshain, " a lusty yonn<^ juan, aged about twenty-tJiree,'" see 
p. 453] shipped myself on board a Pink \a fisliiiig boat] in 
Topsham, of 80 tons burden, Mr. Isaac Stoneham, Master, 
bound for Virginia, and from thence to Topsham again : and 
on the i8th of May following, we arrived there. 

After we had taken in our lading, we set sail homeward 
bound, with 100 Sail of merchantmen, under the convoy of 
two Men-of-war. 

About a fortnight after, the winds separated us from our 
convoy : so that our ship with several others, made the best 
of our way for England ; but, soon after, left each other's 
company. 

The 19th of October following, we came up with two 
Plymouth vessels that were of our said fleet : being then 
about 40 leagues to the westward of Scilly, having the wind 
easterly. 

On the 2ist of the same month, we saw four other ships 
to leeward of us ; which we took to be some of our said fleet. 
But one of them proved to be a French Privateer ; which 
came up under our lee quarter, and wxmt ahead of us, and took 
a Virginia-man of our former fleet, belonging to London : 
vvhich gave us three an opportunity to make our escape from 
the said Privateer. But the two Plymouth men being in 
great want of provisions, and an easterly wind being likely to 
continue ; they bore away for Galicia in Spain. But our 
ship kept on her way for England. 

The NIate of our ship and I made an agreement, in case 
we should be taken by the French, and left on board our own 
ship ; although they should put ten men on board with us, 
to carry the ship and us to France : yet, if we lost sight of 
the Privateer, to stand b}- each other and attack them ; and 
if it did please GOD that wc should overcome them, to carry 
home the ship. 

On the 24th of this month October, 16891, ^^^ were, as I 
feared, taken by a Privateer of St. Malo, of 22, guns, 8 



^■^;^g3'] Miseries of English trisoners in Fi;a\ce. 427 

patteroes [carronadcs], and 100 and odd men. But the Mate's 
design and mine was spoiled : for we were put on board the 
Privateer with three more of our men; and the Master with 
four men and a boy left on board, with eight Frenchmen, to 
navigate the prize to St. Malo. 

On the 26th, we had as much wind as could well blow at 
south-south-west, so that the Privateer could not take care 
of the prize, and so left her : and in some time after, she 
arrived at Havre de Grace. 

Then I made it my endeavour to persuade our Mate and 
the [three] other prisoners, to attack the Frenchmen [about a 
hundred] on board the Privateer; being very positive, with 
the assistance of GOD and theirs, to overcome them, and 
carry home the ship (with, less trouble to my share than I 
found in this which is done). But they concluded it im- 
possible ; and so we continued attempting no resistance at 
all. 

On the 2Sth of October [1689", we arrived at St Malo ; and 
were carried on shore and imprisoned, and in all respect, 
during the space of seventeen days, were used with such 
inhumanity and cruelty, that if we had been taken by the 
Turks we could not have been used worse. For bread, we 
had 61bs., and one cheek of a bullock, for every 25 men for a 
day : and it fell out, that he that had half of a bullock's eye 
for his lot, had the greatest share. 

This makes me wish that I could be the prison keeper, 
and have my liberty to do the Frenchmen that are brought 
in, their justice. 

They daily adding to our number until the prison was so 
full, that swarms of vermin increased amongst us, not only 
here at St. Malo, but also at Dinan whereunto we were 
removed ; insomuch, that many of our fellow prisoners died, 
three of whom were our Mate and two more out of the live 
of our company : and all that did survive, were become mere 
skeletons. I was so weak that I could not put my hand to 
my head. There died out of 600 men, upwards of 400 through 
their cruelty, in three months' time. 

They plundered us of our clothes, when we were taken. 
Some of us that had money purchased rugs to cover our rags 
by day, and keep us warm by night: but, upon our return 
home from France, the Deputy Governor of Dinan (in hopes 



428 TniL Fkiexds AnvExrrKEswi.^SEVT 30, i6c)\.\^-^f^_ 

either to kill us with cold, or to disable us for Their Majesties' 
service at our return) was so cruel as to order our said rugs 
to be taken from us; and himself stayed, and saw it per- 
formed. And when some of our fellow prisoners lay a-dying ; 
they inhumanly stripped off some of their clothes three or 
four days before they were quite dead. 

These and other their barbarities made so great an im- 
pression upon me, as that I did then resolve never to go a 
prisoner there again ; and this resolution I did ever since 
continue in, and, by GOD's assistance, always will I 



And so I was released \ ? by excliangc], and, through the 
goodness of GOD, got to England. 

And after I had been at home so long as to recover my 
health and strength fit to go to sea again ; I shipped myself 
as Mate of a vessel of Topsham [iho. Friends' Adventure'' of 80 
tons burthen, Roger Briant Master, bound from thence to 
Oporto in Portugal, and from thence to London. 

Accordingly, on the 30th day of September, 1691, we began 
our voyage ; and on the 27th of December following, we 
arrived at Oporto. 

On the 24th of February following [1692], we set sail from 
thence to London. 

On the 29th day, being then about 25 leagues north-west 
from Cape Finisterre, about six in the morning, we saw a 
ship, which came up with us at a great pace. At ten in the 
morning, he was within half a league of us; and then put 
out French colours and fired a gun, whereby we knew him 
to be a Frenchman. 

Then I took a rope yarn, and seized two parts of the top- 
sail hilliers \halliards or ropes} together, that our men might 
not lower the topsail ; for I was desirous to have as much 
time as possibly 1 could, to hide some necessaries, to attack 
the Frenchman [i.e., the prize crew]. 

At which, the Master perceiving and knowing my intention, 
said, " Mate ! are you in the same mind now, as you have 
been in all the voyage? " for I had often been sa}"ing what 
I would do towards the retaking of our ship. 

I answered, " Yes ; " and said, " I did not question but, 
with GOD'b assistance, to perform what I had said." 



^■^i&Jj-] Taken v.y a French Privateer oe 36 guns. 429 

The Master said he believed I could not do it; but if I 
should, he thought it was impossible for me to carry home 
the ship. 

Notwithstanding all this, I was not discouraged, but 
desired him to pray for a strong gale of wind after we were 
taken, that we might be separated from the Privateer, and 
be out of sight of her. 

Then I went down in the forecastle, and hid a blunderbuss 
and ammunition betwixt decks, amongst the pipes of wine. 
Before I went aft again the topsails were lowered ; and I 
perceiving that it would not be long before the enemy would 
be on board us, I took a five gallon vessel of my own wine 
[probably Port , and with a hammer beat in one head, and 
put several pounds of sugar in it, and then drank to the 
Master : and said that " I designed that I would drink my 
fill of it, while I had the command of it : and if it would 
please GOD that I should be continued on board, I hoped 
that I should not be long dispossessed of the rest. 

Betwixt ten and eleven o'clock, by the Privateer's com- 
mand, we hauled up the coasts and braced to. 

Then the Privateer's boat, full of men, came on board us: 
and I stept over the side, with my hat under my arm, 
handing the French gentlemen in, till one of them took hold 
of my coat, and I (not daring to resist him) helped it off: 
and ran aft into the cabin, and saved myself from further 
damage. 

After they had taken away almost all our clothes, and 
what else they pleased ; the Lieutenant ordered me and a 
boy John Wright, about sixteen years old] to stay on 
board : which I was very glad of ; but could heartily have 
wished they had left a man in the boy's room. 

Before the Master and I p:.rted, for he and four of our 
men and a boy were carried on board the Privateer ; I asked 
him privately, " What he had done with the money he had 
in a bag ? " 

He told me he had given it to the Lieutenant, and 
withal would know of me, why I made that inquiry. 

I answered, " Because 1 did not question but I should 
have secured that on board, by retaking our ship." 

But the Master said, " It was an impossible thing to be 
done." 



430 LVDE AND J. WRir.IIT ARE LEFT ON BOARD. [^'^^ 

I replied, "Although it seemed to him to be so; yet 
nothing was impossible to be effected by GOD, in whom I 
put my trust." 

Soon after, the Lieutenant and our men returned aboard 
the Privateer ; having left seven of his men on board our 
ship to navigate her to St. Malo. 

In three hours' time, the Privateer was out of our sight, 
which I was very glad of. 

I asked the Master, " If I should fetch a barrel of wine 
up," in hopes to make them drunk ; and then I should com- 
mand them with the less trouble. 

He said I might, if I could find one. Then I fetched a 
barrel of five gallons of sweet strong wine, and kept it tapped 
in the steerage. I drank freely of it, hoping that they thereby 
would be induced to do the like, and so drmk to excess ; but 
that stratagem failed me, for they were never the worse for 
drinking, all the time I was their prisoner. 

Then I acquainted the boy with my intent, and persuaded 
him to assist me in overcoming them ; and I would, with 
the assistance of GOD, carry the ship to Galicia in Spain. 
I continued soliciting him for his compliance in that, and 
the third for England [?j ; but could not prevail with him. 

On the 3rd of March [1692^, we saw Ushant in the 
night. Being within two ships' length of the Fern Rock 
and in great danger of being lost, they called up me and the 
boy to save our lives. When I came up and saw that the 
Frenchmen had got the tackle in the boat and were going 
to hoist her out, I told the boy "to stay aft; for when the boat 
is overboard, they may all go in her, if they will ! but they 
shall not come aboard again : for I will not leave the ship, 
because I shall get the ship off presently." For the wind was 
west-north-west; and the Frenchmen never minded [thoiii^^ht] 
to trim the sails close by the wind, and I would not tell 
them of it because I would get them out of the ship, till I 
saw they did not get out the boat, but gazed at the Rock, 
some crying, and others calling to saints for deliverance. 
Then I desired, and helped them to trim the sails, and soon 
got the ship off again. 

On Friday I4/// March, t.C)C)2\ at noon, we being about 10 
leagues to the eastward of Hrest, with the wind easterly : 
they bore away for Port bean, or some such name they 



^■^i('S'.] Sailing along the coast of France. 431 

called it ; which was about 4 or 5 leagues to the eastward of 
Brest. 

Then I called the boy down betwixt decks, and read two 
or three chapters in the Bible ; and then used all my en- 
deavour to persuade him to assist me : but by all the 
arguments I could use, I could not prevail at this time. 

Then I took a brick, and whetted my knife upon it ; and 
told the boy, "I would not use my knife, upon any account, 
till I was carried into France ; except it were to cut the 
throats of the Frenchmen." 

At which words, the boy startled as if his own throat had 
been cutting; and then left me, and went up on deck. 

At four in the afternoon, we were within half a mile of the 
aforesaid harbour. Then the French fired a patteroe for a 
pilot to come off: whereupon I went upon deck, with a 
sorrowful heart, to see how near we were to the shore ; but 
the Frenchmen were as J03ful as I was melancholy. 

Then considering the inhuman usage I formerly had in 
France, and how near I was to it again ; it struck me with 
such terror that I could stay no longer upon deck : but went 
down betwixt decks, and prayed to GOD for a southerly 
wind, to prevent her going into that harbour; which GOU 
was graciously pleased immediately to grant me, for which 
I returned my unfeigned thanks. 

Friday night, the wind was westerly ; and Saturday, 
southerly : so that in the evening, I heard the Frenchmen 
say that they saw Cape Farril [Frchcl]. 

At eight on the Saturday night, I prayed again for a 
south-west wind, that we might not be near the shore in the 
morning ; and immediately I heard them put the helm a lee, 
and put her about, and got the larboard tacks aboard. 

The boy was then lying by my side. I bade him go up 
and see if the wind was not south-west ; which he ac- 
cordingly did : and at his return, told me it was, and that 
the ship lay off north-north-west. Then I rejoiced, and 
gave GOD thanks for this second signal deliverance. 

The nearer we came to St. Malo, the surlier the French- 
men were to me. 

At twelve a clock, on Saturday night, they called me to 
the pumps ; as they had done several times before, although 
I never went but when I pleased: nor would I do anything 



432 Sunday, Mar. 6, i692,tiiedayof the conflict. [VeJ: 

else for them, thinking it much inferior for an Englishman 
to do anything for a Frenchman. 

But they calling on me several times, at last I turned 
out, and stood in the Gun Room scuttle ; and told the 
Master that " I had served two years for the French already, 
and if I went to France again, I should serve three years." 

*' That is bicn,'' said the Master. 

Then I told them that " I had nothing in the ship to lose: 
and that if they would not pump themselves, the ship should 
sink forme." 

Then I went and laid myself down again, fully resolved 
that if they came to haul me out by force, that I would make 
resistance, and kill or wound as many of them as I could, 
before I died myself: but they let me alone. 

All that night, when the boy was awake, I endeavoured 
to persuade him to assist me ; but still could not prevail : 
though I used, as I had done ever since we were taken, 
many arguments. So that that night, I slept but very little ; 
and when I did slumber at all, I dreamt that I was attack- 
ing the Frenchmen. 

For sleeping or waking, my mind ran still upon the 
attacking of them. 

Sunday, at seven in the morning, we being then about five 
leagues off from Cape Farril ; I then prayed heartily for a 
south-south-east wind : and immediately I heard them take 
in their topsails and haul up the foresail, and brace them 
aback and lash the helm a lee, and let the ship drive off, 
with her head to the westward. Then I sent the boy up 
again, to see if the wind was not come at south-south-east : 
and he brought me word it was. 

Then I gave GOD thanks, and rejoiced at His signal 
providential mercy on me, and for so immediately strengthen- 
ing my faith, and confirming my hopes of redeeming m}-self 
from slavery : and then I renewed my solicitation to the boy 
to yield to me, but still he would not consent ; which made 
me think of attempting it myself, and then I went and took 
a pint of wine, and half a pint of oil, and drank it to make 
me more fit for action. 

At eight in the morning, all the Frenchmen sat round the 
cabin table at breakfast, and they called nie to eat witii them. 
Accordingly I accepted their invitation, but the sight of the 



^■^69>] LVDE TRYING TO PERSUADE J. WrIGIIT TO HELP. 433 

Frenchmen did immediately take away my stomach and 
made me sweat as if I had been in a stove, and was ready to 
faint with eagerness to encounter them. Which the Master 
perceiving, and seeing me in that condition, asked me in 
French, " If I were sick ? " and because he should not mistrust 
anything, I answered " Yes." But could stay no longer in 
sight of them, and so immediately went down betwixt decks, 
to the boy ; and did earnestly intreat him to go up presently 
with me into the cabin and to stand behind me, and knock 
down but one man in case two laid hold on me ; and I would 
kill and command all the rest presently [at once] ; " for now," 
I told him, " was the best time for me to attack them, while 
they were all around the table ; for now I shall have them 
all before me purely, and it may never be the like opportunity 
again." 

After many importunities, the boy asked me, " After what 
manner I intended to encounter with them ? " 

I told him, " I would take the crow of iron, and hold it on 
the middle with both hands I and I would go into the cabin, 
and knock down him that stood at the end of the table on 
my right hand, and stick the point of the crowvinto him that 
sat at the end of the table on my left hand : and then for the 

other five that sat behind the table " But still he not 

consenting, I had second thoughts of undertaking it without 
him : but the cabin was so low that I could not stand upright 
in it by a foot ; which made me desist at that time. 

By this time they had eat their breakfast, and went out 
upon the deck. Then I told the boy, with much trouble 
[vexation] we had lost a brave opportunity, for, by this time, 
I had had the ship under my command ! 

" Nay," says the boy, " I rather believe that, by this time, 
you and I should have both been killed." 

In a little time after they had been on deck, they separated 
from each other, viz., the Master lay down in his cabin ; two 
of the men lay down in the Great Cabin, and one in a cabin 
between decks, and another sat down upon a low stool by 
the helm, to look after the Glass [sand-<^lass to measure each half- 
hour of time], to call to pump, which they were forced to do 
every half-hour by reason of the leakiness of the ship ; and 
the other two men walked upon the decks. 

Then hoping I should prevail with the boy to stand by me; 

Eng. Gar. VI I. 28 



434 Bitter memories of his sufferings, [^"^i^ayt- 

if not, I was resolved to attack them myself: I immediately- 
applied myself to prayer, and desiring GOD to pardon my 
sins which I had committed, and to receive my soul and the 
boy's to mercy. For I thought, if they overcame me, they 
would give the boy no quarter; although he did nothing 
against them. I prayed also for my enemies who should 
happen to die by my hands, because they might not have 
time to call for mercy themselves. I prayed also that GOD 
would strengthen me in my design, that my heart fail not in 
the action. 

And then I endeavoured again to persuade the boy, telling 
him that we should bring a great deal of honour to our native 
country, besides the particular honour which would accrue to 
ourselves : but all this, and much more to that purpose, too 
long to be here insisted on, would not prevail with him to 
consent. 

Then the Glass was out, it beinghalf an hour aftereight,and 
the two men that were upon deck went to pump out the water. 
Then I also went upon deck again, to see whether the wind 
and weather were like to favour my enterprise, and casting my 
eyes to windward, I liked the weather, and hoped the wind 
would stand. Then immediately I went down to the boy, 
and begged of him again to stand by me, while two of the 
men were at the pump. For they pumped on the starboard 
side, and the steerage door opened on the larboard side ; so 
that they could not see me go aft to them in the cabin. But 
I could by no persuasions prevail with the boy ; so that by 
this time the men had done pumping. 

Whereupon losing this opportunity caused me again to be 
a little angry with the boy for not yielding to mc. Telling 
him that " I had prayed three times for the change of the 
wind, and GOD was pleased to hear my prayers, and to grant 
my request ; and thereupon I had a hrm belief wrought in 
me, that I should not be carried a prisoner into France, where 
I had suffered such great hardship and misery. Our allowance 
of food at St. Malo, where we were kept prist)ncrs for seven- 
teen days, was only one cheek of a bullock and bibs, weight 
of bread for 25 men a day ; and only water to drink. And 
at Dinan, where we were kept clo^e prisoners for three 
months and ten days, our allowance was 3lbs. weight of an 
old cow beef, without any salt to savour it, for 7 men a day. 



^■^i69>] Wright asks, What he should do? 435 

But I think we had 2lbs. of bread for each man, but it was so 
bad that do,e^s would not eat it ; neither could we eat but very- 
little, and that we did eat did us more hurt than good, for it 
was more orts [refuse food than bread ; so we gave some of it 
to the hogs, and made pillows of the rest to lay our heads on. 
For they allowed us fresh straw but once every five weeks ; 
so that we bred such swarms of lice in our rags that one man 
had a great hole eaten through his throat by them ; which 
was not perceived till after his death : and I myself was so 
weak that it was fourteen weeks after my releasement before 
I recovered any tolerable strength again. And all this was 
through their cruel tyranny in not allowing us, as their men 
are allowed in England." 

Said the boy, " If I do find it so bad as you do say, when 
I am in France, I will go along with them in a Privateer! " 

These words of his struck me to the heart, which made me 
say, " You dog! what! will you go with them against your 
King and country, and father and mother ? Sirrah ! I was 
in France, a prisoner four months, and my tongue cannot 
express what I endured there ; yet I would not turn Papist 
and go with them ! Yet they came daily persuading me and 
others to go out; and, the time I was there,. I think 17 turned 
Papists, and were kept in a room by themselves ; but GOD 
was pleased to make an example of them ; for I think 12 of 
them died while I was there. And if thou dost turn Papist, 
thou maj-est fare as they did ! and if thou, or any of them 
that be turned, be ever taken again, you will certainly be 
hanged in England by the law ! But I had the command of 
a Privateer, and should take my brother in a French Privateer, 
after he had willingly sailed with them, I would hang him 
immediately ! " 

I, seeing the boy seemed to be reconciled, told him that 
" he should not go into France, if he would do as I would 
have him do ! " 

The boy asked, " What I would have him do ? " 

I told him, "to knock down the man at the helm sickore 
[for certain^ ; and I would kill and command all the rest pre- 
sently [at once]. 

Saith the boy, " If you be sure to overcome them, how many 
do you count to kill ? " 

I answered that " I intended to kill three of them." 



436 Lyde's plan of attack. [^- ^,^6^3; 

Then the boy replied, " Why three, and no more ? " 

I answered that, ** I would kill three, for three of our men 
that died in prison when I was there. And if it should please 
GOD that I should ^et home safe to England, I would, if I 
could, go in a Man-of-war or fireship, and endeavour a revenge 
on the enemy, for the death of those 400 men that died in the 
same prison of Dinan ! " 

But the boy said " Four alive would be too man}' for me." 

I then replied, " I would kill but three, but I would break 
the legs and arms of the rest, if they won't take quarter, and 
be quiet without it." 

Then the boy asked me, " Which three I designed to 
kill?" 

I told him, "I designed to kill those three that I judged to 
be the strongest ; which were those that carried themselves 
most surly towards me : but if any of the rest did take hold 
on me, and that my life were in danger, I would then en- 
deavour to kill a fourth, and not otherwise." 

Then said the boy, *' What do you intend to do with the 
other Frenchmen that shall remain alive ? " 

I answered, ** I will command three of them down into the 
Forepike {jore hold] and nail the scuttle upon them : and I 
would keep the fourth above deck, to help to carry the ship 
for England." 

Then the boy asked me, " How I thought to carry the ship 
to England, with only the assistance of him and one 
Frenchman ? " 

I answered, *' I did not at all question that, but I did 
verily believe that I should carry the ship safe to an anchor, 
either in Plymouth or Dartmouth, before twelve o'clock the 
next day: for this is a fair wind for that purpose." 

" But," said the boy, " how do you think to pump out the 
water, seeing the ship is so very leaky, and to have time to 
refresh ourselves with sleep ; for it may be a longer time than 
you suppose before we shall come to an anchor ? " 

I answered that " the assistance of GOD would be suffi- 
cient to enable us to do all this and more ; for the joy of over- 
coming them will banish sleep from my eyes ! and work will 
weary me but little ! " 

The boy's asking me these several questions did encourage 
me to hope that he would at last be prevailed with to stand 



^ ^6^";:] "LORD ! BE WITH us, and strengthen us!" 437 

by me : and still he proceeded in his inquiries, and asked me, 
" How I did intend to attack them ? " 

I told him, " I would take the crow [crowbar] of iron, and 
hold it with both hands in the middle of it ; and go into the 
[Great] Cabin, and knock down one with the claws, and 
strike the point into the other that lay by his side in the 
cabin ! and I would wound the Master in his cabin ! and do 
thou take the drive-bolt [a long iron pin for driving out bolts], 
and be sure to knock down the man at the helm ! so soon as 
you hear me strike the first blow ; for otherwise if he should 
hear the blow, he may come into the cabin, and lay hold on 
me, before I shall overcome them three." 

And I resolved to myself, of which I said nothing to the 
boy, that if they should all rise against me before I could get 
into the cabin, I would strike at them, and either kill them 
or do them as much hurt as I could before I died myself: 
concluding that after I had once begun, if I should yield, then 
I should certainly die by them ; and therefore did resolve to 
sell my life as dear as I could. 

Then the boy asked me, " What he should do when he had 
knocked down the man at the helm ? " 

I told him, " He should stand without the LGreat] Cabin 
door, and not stir from thence, but to have his eye upon the 
two Frenchmen that were upon deck : and not to come into 
the cabin to me, unless he observed them coming towards the 
cabin; and then he should tell me of it, and come into the cabin. 

At nine in the morning, the two men upon deck went to 
pumping. Then I turned out from the sail, where the boy 
and I then lay, and pulled off my coat that I might be the 
more nimble in the action : and having [butj little hair, I 
hauled off my cap, that if they had the fortune to knock me in 
the head, they might kill me with it. 

Having fitted myself for the action, I went up the Gun 
Room scuttle into the Steerage, to see what posture they were 
in ; and being satisfied therein, I leapt down the scuttle and 
went to the boy : who seeing me resolved upon the action, 
with an earnest entreaty to him to join with me ; he, at last, 
did consent. 

Then the boy coming to me, I leapt up the Gun Room 
scuttle, and said, " LORD ! be with us, and strengthen us 



438 Wright knocks down the steersman. [^^^93; 

in the action ! " : and then I told the boy that the drive-bolt 
was by the scuttle in the Steerage. 

Then I went softly aft into the Cabin, and put my back 
against the bulk head, and took the iron crow (it was laying 
without the Cabin door), and held it with both my hands in 
the middle of it, and put my legs abroad to shorten myself, 
because the Cabin was very low. 

But he that lay nighest to me, hearing me, opened his eyes ; 
and perceiving my intent, and upon what account I was com- 
ing, endeavoured to rise, to make resistance against me : but 
I prevented him, by a blow upon hisforehead, which mortally 
wounded him. And the other man, which lay with his back 
to the dying man's side, hearing the blow, turned about and 
faced me ; very fiercely endeavouring to come against me. I 
struck at him, but he let himself fall from his left arm, and 
held his arm for a guard ; whereby he did keep off a great 
part of the blow : but still his head received a great part of 
the blow. 

The Master laying in his Cabin on my right hand, hearing 
the two blows, rose, and sat in his cabin ; and seeing what I 
had done, he called me Booi^nui ! and Footra ! But I having 
my eyes every way, I pushed at his ear betwixt the turnpins 
with the claws of the crow : but he falling back for fear thereof. 
It seemed, afterwards, that I struck the claws of the crow into 
his cheek, which blow made him lie still as if he had been 
dead. 

While I struck at the Master, the fellow that fended off 
the blow with his arm, rose upon his legs, and ran towards 
me, with his head low (I suppose he intended to run his 
head against my breast to overset me) : but I pushed the 
point at his head, and stuck it an inch and a half into his fore- 
head (as it appeared since by the chirurgeon that searched 
the wound) ; and as he was falling down, I took hold of him 
by the back, and turned him into the steerage. 

I heard the boy strike the man at the helm, two blows; 
after I knocked down the first man : which two blows made 
him lie very still. 

As soon as I turned the man out of the Cabin, I struck one 
blow more at him that I struck first, thinking to leave no man 
alive aft of myself. 

The Master all this while did not stir: which made me 



^^■^ig^j.] LyDE struggling with 4 MEN AT ONCE. 439 

conclude that I had struck him under the ear, and had killed 
him with the blow. 

Then I went out to attack the two men that were at the 
pump ; where they continued pumping, without hearing or 
knowing what I had done. 

As I was going to them, I saw that man that I had turned 
out of the Cabin into the Steerage, crawling out upon his 
hands and knees upon the deck; beating his hands upon the 
deck to make a noise, that the men at the pump might hear: 
for he could not cry out or speak. 

And when they heard him, seeing the blood running out 
of the hole in his forehead, they came running ait to me, 
grinding their teeth as they w'ould have eaten me. 

But I met them as they came with the Steerage door, 
and struck at them : but the Steerage being not about four 
foot high, I could not have a full blow at them. Where- 
upon they fended off the blow, and took hold of the crow 
with both their hands close to mine, striving to haul it from me. 

Then the boy might have knocked them down with much 
ease, while they were contending with me ; but that his heart 
failed him, so that he stood like a stake at a distance on their 
left side. 

Two feets' length of the crow being behind their hands, 
on their left side, I called to the boy to " take hold of it, and 
haul as they did, and I would let it go all at once ! " \Vhich 
the boy accordingly did. I pushed the crow towards them, 
and let it go : and was taking out my knife to traverse [ru^li 
in] amongst them : but they seeing me put my right hand 
into my pocket, fearing what would follow, both let go the 
crow to the boy, and took hold of my right arm with both 
their hands, grinding their teeth at me. 

The Master, that I thought I had killed in his Cabin, 
coming to himself; and hearing that they had hold of me, 
came out his Cabin and also took hold of me, with both his 
hands round my middle. 

Then one of the men that had hold of my right arm, let 
go ; and put his back to my breast, and took hold of my left 
hand and arm, and held it close to his breast, and strove to 
cant me upon his back. 

And the Master let go from my middle, and took hold of my 
right arm, and he, with the other that had hold of my right arm, 



440 Wright misses his blow at the French. [^^'693. 

did strive to turn me over from the other back : thinking to 
get me off my legs. But I knowing that I should not be long 
in one piece if they got me down, I put my left foot against the 
ship's side on the deck for a supporter, and, with the assis- 
tance of GOD! I kept upon my feet ; when they three, and 
one more (for the man that the boy knocked down at the 
helm, rose up and put his hands about my middle, and strove 
to haul me down) did strive to throw me down. 

The boy seeing that man rise, and take hold of me, cried 
out 1 fearing then that I should be overcome by them ; but 
did not come to help me, nor did strike one blow at any of 
them : neither did they touch him all the time. 

When I heard the boy cry out, I said, " Do you cry ! you 
villain ! now I am in such a condition ! Come quickly, and 
knock this man on the head that hath hold on my left arm ! " 

The boy perceiving that my heart did not fail me ; he 
took some courage from thence, and endeavoured to give 
that man a blow on his head with the drive-bolt : but struck 
so faintly, that he missed his blow; which greatly enraged 
me against him. 

And I feeling the Frenchman which hung about my middle 
hang very heavy, said to the boy, *' Do you miss your blow ! 
and I in such a condition ! Go round the binnacle, and 
knock down that man that hangeth upon my back ; " 
which was the same man the boy knocked down at the helm. 

So the boy did strike him one blow upon the head, which 
made him fall, but he rose up immediately; but being in- 
capable of making any further resistance, he went out upon 
deck staggering to and fro, without any further molestance 
from the boy. 

Then I looked about the beams for a marlin-speck [spike] ^ 
or anything else to strike them withal : but seeing nothing, 
I said, "LORD! what shall I do ? " 

Then casting up my eye upon my left side, and seeing 
a marlin-speck hanging with a strap to a nail on the larboard 
side, I jerked my right arm forth and back, which cleared 
the two men's hands from my right arm, and took hold of 
the marlin-speck, and struck the point four times, about a 
quarter of an inch deep, into the skull of that man that had 
hold of my left arm, before they took hold of my right arm 
again. I also struck the marlin-speck into his head three 



^ ^/gy*: ;] LvDE KILLS A SECOXI) Fkexcii.man. 441 

times after they had hold of me, which caused him to screech 
out : but they having hold of me, took off much of the force 
of the three last blows; and he being a strong-hearted man, 
he would not let go his hold of me. 

The two men finding that my right arm was stronger 
than their four arms were, and observing the strap of the 
marlin-speck to fall up and down upon the back of my hand 
so that it struck him that had his hands nearest to my right 
one : he let go his right hand and took hold of the strap, 
and hauled the marlin-speck out of my hand. And I, fear- 
ing what in all likelihood would follow, put my right hand 
before my head for a guard, although three hands had hold 
of that arm : for I concluded he would knock me on the head 
with it, or else throw it at my head. 

But, through GOD's wonderful providence! it either fell 
out of his hand, or else he threw it down ! for it did fall so 
close to the ship's side that he could not reach it again, 
without letting go his other hand from mine. So he did not 
attempt the reaching of it ; but took hold of my arm with 
his other hand again. 

At this time, the Almighty GOD gave me strength enough to 
take one man in one hand, and throw at the other's head : and 
looking about again to see for anything to strike them withal, 
but seeing nothing I said, " LORD ! what shall I do now ? " 

And then it pleased GOD to put me in mind of m}- knife 
in my pocket. And although two of the men had hold of my 
right arm, yet GOD Almighty strengthened me so, that I 
put my right hand into my right pocket, and took out my 
knife and sheath, holding it behind my hand that they 
should not see it. But I could not draw it out of the 
sheath with my left hand, because the man that I struck in 
the head with the marlin-speck had still hold of it, with his 
back to my breast. 

So I put it between my legs, and drew it out ; and then cut 
that man's throat with it, that had his back to my breast : and 
he immediately dropped down, and scarce ever stirred after. 

Then with my left arm, I gave both the men a push from 
me ; and hauled my right arm, with a jerk, to me ; and so 
cleared it of them : and fetching a stroke with an intent to 
cut both their throats at once, they immediately apprehend- 
ing the danger they were in, both put their hands together, 



442 LyDE gets hold of the BLUXDERBUSS. P' ^1^603! 

and held them up cryinp;, " Cortc ! Corte ! Monsieur! may allay 
piir Au<j^lcterir si vou pica Quarter! Quarter! Sir! I will go 
for England, if you please ! j." 

With that, I stopped my hand, and said, " Good Quarter 
you shall have; Allc a Pro [Go to the prow]." And then I put 
my knife into the sheath again. 

But they not oheying my command, hut standing still; I 
concluded they had a mind to have the other hout with me ; 
and I drew out my knife again, resolving to cut their throats. 
But then their countenances immediately changed ; and they 
put off their hats and said, " Moy allc pro Monsieur. Moy 
travallay pur Anglcfcrrc si vou pica [I will go for Monsieur. 
I will work for England, if you please;." 

Then I stopped my hand again ; and they went out upon 
deck, and went forwards. 

Then I made fast the Steerage door, and ordered the hoy 
to stand by it and to keep it fast ; and to look out through 
the blunderbuss holes; and if he did see any man coming 
towards the door, with an}'thing in his hand to open the 
door, he should tell me of it, and come into the Cabin for the 
blunderbuss and ammunition, which I had hid away before 
we were taken, but which the Frenchmen had found and 
kept in the Cabin. 

After I had loaded it, I came out with it in the Steerage, 
and looked forward out of the Companion to see if any man 
did lie over the Steerage door with a bit [bight] of a rope to 
throw over me, or any other thing that might prejudice me 
as I should go out. But seeing no man there, I went out 
upon deck ; and looked up to the maintop, for fear the 
two wounded men were there, and should throw down any- 
thing upon my head to do me an injury. 

But seeing no man there, I asked the boy, " If he could 
tell me what was become of the two wounded men that 
came to themselves, and went out upon the deck, while I 
was engaged with the three men in the Steerage." 

The boy told me, " They had scrambled overboard ! " For 
he said, " he looked through the blunderbuss holes in the 
bulkhead, and saw them staggering to and fro like men that 
were drunk." 

I thought it very strange they should be accessory to their 
own deaths. 



^- Ly^e.] jjiE Frenxiimex are put in the eoreiioi.d. 443 

Then I ordered the boy to stand by the Steerage door, to see 
if that man betwixt decks did come up ; and if he did, to tell 
me of it, and come forward to me : which he promised to do. 

Then I went forward to the two men that cried for 
Quarter ; who stood by the boat side : but they being afraid, 
ran forwards and were going up in the foreshrouds; but I held 
up the blunderbuss, and said " Veni abau e montc a Cuttclia et 
ally ahau Xome below, and raise the scuttle, and go below ! ]." 

And then they put off their hats, and said, ''Monsieur, moy 
travalli pur Angleterre si voiis plea! [Sir, I will work for 
England, if you please\" 

But I answered, "Alle abau [Go below"; fori don't want 
your help." 

Then they said "Ouy, Monsieur;'' and unlid[ed[ the scuttle, 
and went down. 

Then I went forward, and as I came before the foot of the 
mainsail, I looked to the foretop, and seeing no man there, I 
went and looked down into the Forecastle ; and shewed the 
two men a scuttle on the larboard side that went down into 
the Fore-peak, and said, " Le monte Cuttclia et ally abau '. [Raise 
the scuttle and go below ! [." 

They answered, " Ouy, Monsieur ! " and then unlid[ed[ the 
scuttle, and put off their hats and went down ; giving GOD 
thanks for His mercy towards them, in giving them a 
longer life. 

Then I called down to them, and asked them, " If they 
saw any man betwixt decks before they went down ? " 

And they answered " No ! " 

Then I called forward the boy, and gave him the blunder- 
buss ; and bid him present it down the Forecastle, and " if 
he saw any man take hold of me, so that I could not get 
clear of them, or if I called on him for his help : then, he 
should be sure to discharge the blunderbuss at us, and kill 
us all together, if he could not kill them without shooting me." 

The boy promised he would, but he would not shoot me. 

Then I took the boy's bolt- [driver] and put my head down the 
scuttle, and looked all round : and seeing no man there, I leaped 
down in the Forecastle, and looked round that also; but seeing 
no man betwixt decks, I laid the scuttle and nailed it fast. 

Then thought I myself safe ; seeing two were killed, and 
two secured. 



444 ^ THIRD Frenchman put in the hold. ^'^693! 

Then I went upon deck, and took the blunderluiss from 
the boy, and gave him the bolt- [driver], and went aft, and 
ordered the boy as before to stand by the Steerage door, and 
give me an account if he saw any man coming towards him, 
with a handspike. 

Then I went aft into the Cal:)in, and cut two candles in 
four pieces, and lighted them. One I left burning upon the 
table. The other three I carried in my left hand, and the 
blunderbuss in my right hand. 

I put my head down the Gun Room scuttle, and looked 
round ; and seeing no man there, I leapt down and went to 
the man that lay all this time asleep in a Cabin betwixt 
decks, and took him by the shoulder with my left hand, and 
wakened him. 

Presenting the blunderbuss at him with my right hand, I 
commanded him out of his Cabin; and made him stand still, 
till I got up into the Steerage. 

Then I called the man ; and he standing in the scuttle, 
and seeing the man that had his throat cut, cried out, "O 
Jesu ! Maria! " and called upon some other saints. 

I told him " I had nothing to do with Maria now! Monte, 
montc et ally a Pro ! [Go up, go up ! and go to the prowl." 

Then he came up, and went forward, looking round to see 
for his companions ; but I followed him, and made him go 
down into the Forecastle, and stand on the starboard side. 

Then I gave the boy the blunderbuss, and ordered him to 
present it at the man ; and if he perceived him either to 
come towards me, or to take anything to throw at me, while 
I was opening the scuttle, then to shoot him. 

Then I took the crow of iron, and leapt down with it, into 
the Forecastle ; and drew the spikes and opened the scuttle, 
and bade the man go down : which he readily did, and 
rejoiced when he had found two of his companions there. 



After I had nailed down the scuttle again, I went aft, and 
ordered the boy to stand by the Steerage door again. I then 
took the candles and the blunderbuss, and went down 
betwixt decks ; and went forward and aft, and looked in all 
the holes and corners, lor the two wounded men : but found 
them nut. 



^■'S-] '^^^^ OTHER TWO FrEN'CIIMEN SURRENDER. 445 

Findin<^ the Gun Room scuttle that went down into the 
hold, open, I called down : but hearing none make answer, I 
laid the scuttle. And there being about twenty bags of 
shumack [ ? bark] in the Gun Room, I rolled two of them, of 
6 cwt. [together] upon the scuttle ; and rolled more close to 
them, that if the men were there, and did lift up one side of 
the scuttle, the bags might not roll off. 

Then I went upon deck, and told the boy, " I could not 
find the two men, betwixt decks," 

He said, " They were certainly run overboard." 

I told him, " I would know what was become of them, 
before I made sail." 

Then I told the boy, " I would go up into the Maintop, 
and see if they were there ; and then I should be sure to see 
them if they were in the Foretop." 

So I gave him the blunderbuss, and bade him present it at 
the Maintop ; and if he saw any man look out over the Top 
with anything in his hand to throw at me, he should then 
shoot them. 

Then I took the boy's bolt-^driver], and went up ; and 
when I was got to the puddick shrouds, I looked forwards to 
the Foretop, and there I saw the two men, covered with the 
Foretopsail, and their sashes bound about their heads to keep 
in the blood and to keep their heads warm. 

Then I called to them. They turned out, and went down 
upon their knees, and wrang their hands, and cried, " Corie ! 
Cortc ! Monsieur ! Moy allay pur Angletcrrc si vou pica." 

Then I said, " Good Quarter you shall have ! " and I 
went down, and called to them to come down ; and he that 
the boy wounded [and that was at the hchn\ came down and 
kissed my hand over and over, and went down into the 
Forecastle very willingly. 

But the other man was one of the three that I designed to 
kill, and the same that I had struck the crow into his fore- 
head. He knew that he had said ill things of the Prince of 
Orange, meaning our gracious King; and that ** an English 
Man-of-war was no better than a louse!" and did always call 
me up to pump : these things, I suppose, he thought Fd 
not forgot, and therefore that I would not give Quarter. 

Notwithstanding, I intended to do so. But I suspected 
him to be an English or Irish man ; and I was resolved if it 



44^ One Frenchman taken to sail the ship. [^- ^;^g3; 

proved so, that I would hang him myself, when it did please 
GOD that I had help comin^^ aboard from England. 

So I called him down. But he being unwilling, delayed 
his coming. 

I took the blunderbuss, and said that " I would shoot him 
down ! " And then he came a little way, and stood still ; and 
begged me to give him Quarter : and if I would, he would 
then " trcvally pur Anglctcrre," and also pump the water. 

I told him, " If he would come down, he should have 
Quarter!" and I presented the blunderbuss at him again. 
And then he came a little lower, and said, " Monsieur, von 
baitera may [O Sir, you will beat me !]." 

I told him that " I would not beat him, and withal I 
would discourse with him no longer. If he would come down, 
he might ! if not, I would shoot him down ! " 

Then he came down, and I gave the boy the blunderbuss. 

The Frenchman took my hand, and wrung it, and kissed it 
over and over ; and called me his boon Monsieur ! and told 
me he would help to carry the ship for England. 

I told him, " I did not want his help ! " and commanded 
him down in the Forecastle. 

Then I made them both stand on the starboard side ; and 
ordered the boy to shoot them, if they offered to throw an}'- 
thing at me, or came near to me, while I went down into the 
Forecastle to unnail the scuttle. 

Then I took the crow of iron, leapt down into the Fore- 
castle, and unnailed the scuttle ; and commanded the two 
Frenchmen down into the hold. 

And I called one of the men up that cried first for Quarter, 
to help me to sail the ship for England. This man was not 
wounded at all, and was not above twenty-four years of age : 
and I had least fear of him, because he was indifferent 
[somewhat] kind to me while I was their prisoner. But he 
was very unwilling to come up : but with much importunity, 
I prevailed with him to come up. 

I sent him aft : and then laid the scuttle, and nailed a 
piece of oaken plank to each beam, with spikes over it. And 
I bade them get from under the scuttle. Then I split the 
scuttle with the crow, and drave it down into the hold to give 
them air. 



R. Lyde. 



] LyDe's kindness to Ills PRISONERS. 447 



Then I went aft, and commanded the man to help to haul 
out the two men that were dead ; which he did accordin<;Iy : 
and so we threw them overboard. But before I threw them 
both, I took a sash from one of them, because it was red : 
on purpose to make fast about the white ancient [the white 
French flag, and so to make it an English one] which the 
Frenchmen put on board; and put it out for a whiff [signal]. 
And I searched his pocket for a steel and flint, but found 
none : for want whereof, I was forced to keep two candles 
always burning in the Cabin, till I got the Pilot's [flint and 
steel] on board from Topsham. 



Now being about leagues of Cape Farril [^Frehcl], which. 
made half an hour after nine of the clock, and the Glass being 
almost out ; and having secured all the men : I ordered the 
boy to put the blunderbuss in the boat, for him to command 
the Frenchman withal, when I was doing anything. 

Then I sent the Frenchman to loose the helm, and put 
him a weather, and weared the ship ; and, with the assistance 
of GOD, I had to cost three topsails, the spritsail, and mizzea 
trimmed in less than an hour's time, to make the most of a 
fair wind. 

Then I gave down to them in the hold, a basket of bread 
and butter, and a gimlet and spikes : and ordered them to draw 
and drink of one of my own casks of wine which I had there ; 
because if they should have drawn out of a Pipe, they might 
not find the hole in the dark, and so spill a great deal of wine. 

And I gave them down their clothes, and some old sails to 
lie upon. I gave them likewise a bottle of brandy to wash 
their wounds, and salve which they had brought on board, 
and candles to see to dress their wounds. 

And having no more necessaries for them, I was sorr}^ to 
see him that the boy wounded, because he was very bad of 
his wounds. 

After we had been some time steering our course for Eng- 
land ; the boy asked me, "What I would do, if we should 
meet with a French Privateer? " 

I said, " I did not question but, with the help of GOD, we 
should be either in Dartmouth or Plymouth, before twelve 
a clock the next day. If I should see any ship that icill speak 



448 The sirir sailing for England. [^'^,603.' 

with me, and I cannot get from him, I will either shoot all 
the Frenchmen that were on board, or knock them all on the 
head, and heave them overboard I For I do not look for any 
mercy from the French, if these li\-e or die. And if fall out 
to be an English ship, they will help to carry our ship to 
England." 

The wind held south-south-east till three in the afternoon, 
and then veered to the westward. Then I gave GOD thanks, 
as I had before, for His goodness and mercy to me, in giving 
me victory over mine enemies. 

At four, the wind was at south-west, and at six in the 
evening, at west. At eight, the wind was north-west-and-by- 
north, and north-north-east. Then I got two luff tackles, 
and got the starboard tacks aboard, and stood to the west- 
ward : and I prayed to GOD for His protection, to keep me 
clear from my bloodthirsty enemies. 

Then I ordered the boy to walk upon deck, and to look 
after the Frenchman at the helm : and I went down into the 
Forecastle, and hove all the moveable things that I could 
get upon the scuttle over the Frenchmen. And I went up 
and laid and barred or nailed all the scuttles in the upper 
deck. Then I knew myself safe from them that were in the 
hold : for I considered that if they should break through the 
lower deck, which I thought they could not : yet they could 
not possibly get through the upper deck, with the assistance 
of GOD Almighty. 

At ten at night, the wind veered to the westward. At 
eleven, the wind was at west. Then I took the larboard 
tacks aboard ; and having " a topgallant gale," I had the sails 
trimmed in a quarter of an hour's time. 

At one, the wind was west-south-west, ** a topsail gale." 

At two in the morning, I had as much wind as I could carry 
the topsails with a reef in of each. The Frenchmen had taken 
in a reef of each topsail before I retook the ship ; and I kept 
them in, for the more ease in the handling of the ship. 

The wind held fresh, and the dawning broke very high, 
and the clouds looked very dark and showery, and they cleared 
up in the northward board [horizon] : which made me afraid 
that the wind would be north-west, and blow so hard that I 
should not be able to handle the ship with the Frenchman ; 
but I put my trust in the LORD for His assistance. 



^■^S] LVDE REJOICES AT MAKING StART PoiXT. 449 

At six, the wind was at west, and blew hard in showers 
[squalls] ; and I let three or four showers pass, without 
lowering either of the topsails. 

At eight, the wind was at north-west, and blew very hard : 
but still I carried more sail than I would have done, if I had 
had eight Englishmen on board. For I kept up the topsail, 
till at last the wind in the showers did put the gunhil [gunwale] 
of the ship in the water. Then I hauled down the topsail, 
and clewed up the sheets, and braced them aback till each 
shower [squall] was over ; and then hauled home the sheet, 
and up with the topsail again. And this I did for four or 
five hours: which made the ship leak so very much, that I 
and the boy were forced to pump always between the showers ; 
and yet could not keep her free. 

The boy cried many times, that I "would carry the top- 
mast by the board, or the ship to pieces ! " 

I told him, " I did not fear the topmast, but if they went 
by the board, I could not help that ! For now was the time 
to carry the topsails, and carry them I would as long as the 
gunhil was above water! for I had rather carry the ship in 
pieces than be driven ashore in France 1 

At nine, the wind was north-north-west and at north, and 
blew harder. Then I took in the two topsails. The wind 
increasing, I hauled down the mizzen [sail] ; and after we had 
pumped out the water, we sat down and eat some bread, and 
drank a glass of wine to refresh ourselves. 

And I took brandy and butter and rubbed it into my hands, 
and especially into my left thumb ; which was strained by 
the man that had his throat cut, and bruised by the boy when 
he missed his blow at the man's head : so that it was much 
swelled and enraged ; and my hand was sore with pumping 
and doing other work, for the wind now blew dry. 

At two in the afternoon, the wind was at north-north- 
west, and lynned r? veered] a little. I called the boy to hold 
on the mizzen jacks, and as I was hoisting the mizzen [sail , 
I looked out upon the luff, and saw land : and after I had 
set the mizzen, I went up into the maintop, and there made 
it to be the Start ; which I thought was the joyfullest sight 
that ever I saw. 

Then I hove out the maintopsail, and went down, and 
sent up the boy, and hove out the topsail ; and I and the 

eng.gak.vw. 29 



450 Off Topsiiam, the pilot will not come out. [^- ^--'^l^^^ 

boy set them to get in with the shore. Yet the wind blew 
very hard, and if all our own crew of men had been on board, 
I am sure we should have but carried two coasts and a 
mizzen at the most. 

At four, I and the boy bent the cables ; and we were suffi- 
ciently washed in doing of it. 

At six, the Berry Head bore north-north-west, distance 
four leagues. 

In the night, the wind veered north, and north-north-east, 
and north-east, and north-west ; and after twelve at night it 
proved a little [slight] wind. 

In the dawning of the day, the wind very hard at north- 
west ; which compelled me to furl both topsails. 

This being Tuesday, at eight in the morning, I being then 
about three leagues south-east from Lyme, the wind grew calm. 

At noon, we had a little breeze of wind at north-east and 
north-north-east. 

At two I saw a great ring about the sun, and [it] broke in 
the east-south-east, and looked but indifferent : but however 
I did hope to be up with Topsham bar before night. And 
thereupon I sent up the boy, and let out the reef of the main- 
topsail, and made all the sail that I could, except the reef in 
the foretopsail. 

At three, I had " a topgallant gale " at east-south-east. 

At four, I saw the ring round the sun again, and [itj broke 
in the south-south-east ; and the southward board looked 
very grim. And having a whole night in hand made me wish 
that I had six Englishmen on board. For now I was hardly 
able to lift up my hands to my head, by reason of my frequent 
pumping, and for want of sleep; but the hopes of getting in 
over the bar that night, and of bringing such unheard-of news 
to my native country, did revive my spirits, and my joy 
increased very much. 

At six, I bade the boy fire a patteroe three times, which 
spent all the powder I had on board ; and the French ancient 
tied in a red sash, I put out for a whiff for the Pilot to come 
off. But by all the sail that I could make, I got no nearer 
than a mile from the bar, in the dimps [dusk] of the night. 

Then I went up to the topmast head, to see if I could per- 
ceive the Pilot's boat coming off. But because I could not 
shew an English ancient [Jlcig:, they were afraid to come out; 



^.69>] TaCKTXG BETWEEN TorSTIAM AXI) DARTMOUTH. 45 I 

but lay upon their oars near the bar (as afterwards was known), 
so that I could not see them : and night came on, or else I 
would, through the assistance of GOD, have ventured to have 
carried the ship in over the bar myself. 

Then I got the larboard tacks aboard, thinking to go into 
Torbay. And I ordered the boy to furl the spritsail and 
mizzentopsail, and kept her close by the wind, for to have a 
good offing, that I might have time to furl all to the main- 
sail, and that hauled down, before I did come to an anchor. 

At eight, I took in the maintopsail. 

At night, having a good offing, I took in the foretopsail. 

But I considered that it was not best to go into Torbay, 
because the sheet Cable was carried away by the French 
Privateer, and the small Bower was not fit for ocam ; and 
having only the best Bower to trust to : and it was to be 
doubted [feared] whether that would bring her up or not, and 
many casualties might fall out besides ; and if that did bring 
her up, I thought I might sink to an anchor, if the storm did in- 
crease (as now it blew a " reef topsail gale ") for want of help. 
For I had no powder to fire the patteroe to invite men on board. 

So I kept along, with two coasts and a mizzen, in hopes that 
the wind would not blow so hard ; but that I should be able 
to carry that sail, and keep her between Dartmouth and 
Topsham. 

The wind veering to the southward, at eleven in the night, 
I was about half a mile off Dartmouth Range. 

The wind blew hard, and I strived to put her about three 
times ; but could not make the ship to stay : which cause 
made me send the boy up to loose the foretopsail : and after 
it was sate with one reef in, she sta3'ed ; and in half an hour's 
time, with the assistance of GOD, I had two coasts and the 
mizzen trimmed: but I clewed up the foretopsail sheets, and 
braced it aback, for the ease of the vessel, because she leaked 
very much. And I had not much haste in my way, because 
the wind was south-south-east, and blew very hard. 

At one in the morning, I put the Frenchman to the helm, 
and hid the blunderbuss, and carried the boy up with me into 
the maintop to help to reef the maintopsail ; and in less than 
an hour's time, I had taken two reefs of it in. For if the 
storm did increase, or held as it was, so that the Pilot could 
not come on board ; I would have hauled up the two coasts 



45- The Topsttam pilot tomes on r.OAun. [^■^;6!j3; 

and the mizzen, and carry the ship in over the bar, with two 
reef topsails. 

After three, I bore away for the bar of Topsham, thinking 
to go in over the bar in the morning tide ; but by five, the 
wind hned [veered]. 

At six, I sent up the boy to loose the maintopsail. 

At seven, I let out the reefs of both topsails, and made all 
the sail I could : but the wind dying away so, I did not fetch 
the bar before ten of the clock ; which was too late for that 
tide. 

At which time, the Pilot was coming ; but seeing no 
colours, nor no men on deck but myself and the boy, they 
were afraid : and were rowing away from me. 

But I being in hail of them, I asked them, " What they were 
afraid of? and why they should not come on board ? " 

They hearing me call to them in English, they lay still 
upon their oars till I came up with them : and seeing me and 
the boy, whom they knew ; they inquired for the Master. 

I told them, " He might be carried into France by this 
time." 

And after they came on board, I gave them an account of 
all the proceedings, which made them all in a maze ; and 
they would hardly believe it : but to put them out of doubt, 
I shewed them the five prisoners. Whom the Pilots would 
have had me let them out to work : but I refused to do that 
till the ship was over the bar. Because they should not see 
how the bar did lie ; for fear they might become pilots, and 
go in with their boats hereafter, and so burn or carry away 
our ships. 

This discourse being ended, the Pilots would have me sleep, 
for they perceived by my countenance, that I stood in need 
of it : but the joy of having six Englishmen on board banished 
all sleepiness from me. 

Half an hour after ten, I sent two of Pilots' [men] ashore. 
One to bring me some help on board. And the other, to ride 
to Exeter, with a letter which I wrote to the owners of the 
ship, who I thought would have been very well pleased with 
the news. But they gave him but a French half-crown [2s. 
3(^/.j and a shilling 1=3.^. ^d. in all ^ los. now] for carry- 
ing the news to them, eleven miles. For they did not much 



^' ^i693-] '^^^^ Gazette Account of the Exi-Lorr. 453 

regard the news, having insured ;^56o [=£"1,700 7/ow] upon 
tlie ship: and two men since appraised her but at £^170 

The Postmaster of Exeter, hearing of my retaking of the 
ship, sent for the Pilot, to be informed by him of the particu- 
lars relating thereunto : who, through forgetfulness, gave 
an imperfect account of the action : but in the letter I sent 
to the owners, I gave an account of all, except the action. 
Both these were sent by an express to London, and printed 
in the Gazette : '•'' which Pilot's account differed from this my 
Relation. 

'■' The follorvittg account in the London Gazette, 2,749, of Monifay., McircJi 
14, \6(^\\^i\ iJimigli inaccurate in some respects, gives lis the name and 
age 0/ the doy, and some otlier particulars about LvDE himself. 

Exon^ March 12. There has lately happened a remarkable action, by 
a vessel belonging to this port, called the Friends' Adiioiture, Roger 
Bryant Master. 

He came from Oporto on the 24th of last month ; and on the 29th, was 
taken by a French Privateer of 36 guns, and about 250 men, one 
Gkraldixe Commander, twenty-five leagues south-east-and-by-east of 
Cape Finisterre. 

They took away the Master and five of his men, leaving in the said 
vessel, only the Mate and a boy ; and put seven Frenchmen on board to 
navigate her to St. Malo. 

Being come in sight of Cape de Hage \^Hogjie^ there arose a south- 
south-east wind ; by which they were driven off the French coast. 

On the 6th instant, in the morning, the Mate, whose name is Robert 
Lyde of Topsham, a lusty young man, aged about twenty-three years, 
who was a prisoner in France last year ; and the boy, named John 
Wright, of about sixteen years, having before agreed on their design, and 
promised to stand by one another, took tlieir opportunity, while two of 
the Frenchmen were at the pump, one at the helm, one on the Forecastle, 
and three sleeping in their cabins. Tlie Mate fell upon the two men at 
the pump ; and with a crow of iron, killed one and wounded the other, at 
one blow. At the same time, the boy knocked down the Frenchman on 
the Forecastle : and they afterwards secured the man at the helm. 

One of the three that were asleep got up in the meantime, and meeting 
the Mate, was wounded by him in the head, and driven out upon the 
deck. 

The two others, hearing a noise, came likewise from their cabins, to the 
rescue of their companions, and laid hold of the Mate : but with the help 
of the boy, he got tlie mastery of them, killed one of them, and the other 
thereupon cried for Ouarter. 

Oftlie "(w^ Frenchmen th.it remained alive, two were disabled by the 
wounds they had received ; two, they secured between decks ; and the 
other they took to help to sail the vessel : wiiich they brought into Top- 
sham, on the yth iiisiant ; and the !• rench prisoners are now ashore. 



454 LvDE TAKES HIS ruisoNERs TO Exeter. [^'^,^693' 

I stayed without the bar till four in the afternoon ; and 
then we went for the bar. 

After I was f^ot over in safety and landlocked, and there 
were many people on board, who were desirous to see the 
Frenchmen : I ript off the plank which was nailed over the 
hold ; and the prisoners came up, to the confirmation of the 
truth of this Relation. 

By five, I was at anchor at Staircross ; and there were as 
many people on board as could well stand. Immediately, I 
sent the prisoners toTopsham, in the Custom House wherry, 
that the doctors might take care of their wounds. 

At six, I put all the people ashore, except the boy and 
Their Majesties' Officers ; whom I left on board. 

I went to Topsham, where I found my prisoners, with a 
doctor dressing their wounds. On searching, he concluded 
that two of them could not live a week. But as soon as I 
came in, those that were clear of the doctor, put off their hats 
and kissed my hands, and shewed a great deal of love to me 
outwardly. 

After 1 had seen them dressed, and good lodging provided 
for them ; I went home to refresh myself with sleep. 

And the next day I marched my prisoners to Exeter, and 
carried them to one of the Owner's house : and afterwards 
delivered them to the Mayor. 



I was creditably informed that, while I was at Exeter, the 
Owners sent a man on l^oard the ship; who persuaded the 
boy to go on shore with him, under pretence to drink with 
him : but his intent was to take possession of the ship on 
behalf of the Owners, who sent him thither for that very pur- 
pose. But the Surveyor of Their Majesties' Custom House 
chancing to be there ; he caused five Tidesmen to be put on 
board, and so prevented that design. 

Then they gave out the report, that they would arrest me, 
because I would not let them put a Master over me in the 
ship, to bring her to London ; concluding that I could not 
find bail : but they hearing that I had got bail, in case tliey 
did proceed, desisted their design again. 

So soon as the owners of the cargo, who lived in London, 
heard of the arrival of the ship ; the}- got a Prvtcciiun and 



^■^^93-] ^^ TAKES THE SHIP ON TO LoNDON. 455 

sent it to a friend of theirs in Exeter, to deliver to me, to get 
men to bring the ship to London. But the man to whom the 
Protection was sent, being influenced by the Owners, gave 
the Protection to them : which they sent back to London, and 
endeavoured to get another in the room of it, in the name of 
one whom they intended to make Master of the ship ; who 
had insured ^200 i=/^6oo now] for his brother Roger 
Briant, the Master of the said ship, that was carried into 
France. 

But they finding that they could not get another Protection 
granted tliem, than that procured in my name which was 
sent down ! After it was detained a considerable time from 
me ; it was delivered to me with an order to ship men : whom 
I got, and the ship being ready to sail with the first fair wind, 
and a strong gale if a convoy did not present. 

But they would not let me stay to see the wind settle ; 
but forced me out on the 5th of April [1692], with the first 
spurt of a fair wind. 

On the 6th day of the same, in the morning, being off 
Portland with a contrary wind ; I bore up again : and on the 
7th, I went in over the bar of Topsham again. 

I had not been three hours at an anchor, before there 
came two French Privateers from the Eastward, with 
English colours; supposed to be King James's Privateers, 
because they were for the most part manned with Irishmen. 
They went along, about a league from the bar; and went 
into Torbay, and took and carried av^ay with them, two 
English ships which came from Oporto. My Owners hear- 
ing thereof, and that I was in safety, were very angry with 
me ; and huffed [blustered] at me, because I did not stay to 
be a prey to the enemy. 

On the igth of Apri'l, I w^ent out over the bar again, with 
the wind west-south-west, " a topsail gale." 

On the 20th, I went into the Isle of Wight, in hopes to 
have found some ships bound to the Eastward : but found 
none. 

On the 2Tst, with a strong south-west wind, I went out 
again ; and got into the Downs on the 22nd, and arrived at 
London on the 26th. 

When I came ashore to the Freighters, that had 115 Pipes 
of wine on board ; they did not so much as bid me welcome ! 



456 The Frekiiiters try to rogue Lyde. [^'^^J: 

but bade me go to the Custom House, and enter the cargo: 
for they said the}' would unlade the ship forthwith. 

Then I asked them for money to pay the men, that helped 
to bring the ship to London : but they denied to give me any. 

There were, iDesides the Merchants' wine, two Pipes of the 
Master's; that was in all, 117 Pipes; and 8 Tons of 
sumach and cork: which paid the King in duties, ;£'i,ooo 
I =^3,000 now]. 

Then I asked the merchants again for money to pay the 
men, who belonged to Men-of-war : which they again refused 
to pay. 

On the 27th, betimes in the morning, came one of the 
Freighters on board, with his cooper: who tasted all the 
wine that he could come at. And the cooper said, " He 
never knew wine come home in a better condition in his life- 
time, than that did." 

Tlie iMeighter having one lighter by the ship's side, and 
another coming aboard ; he bade me to get men to put the 
wine and other goods into the lighters: for he said he 
intended to have it all out in twenty-four hours' time. 

I perceiving his intention was to get the cargo into his 
possession, before I should get any friends, said, " Sir, I 
have ventured my life to save the ship and cargo ! For that 
which was mine on board, was most of it carried away, and 
what was left I have drunk out of to save the cargo : for I 
have not drawn one glass of the wdne belonging to the cargo; 
and you see that the wine is good, and the pipes are full ! 
And the Privateer carried but one Pipe of yours, out of the 
116. And therefore it is reason that I should have my loss 
made good out of the cargo : for I have more Adventure 
money [i.e., what LvDE invested in his own wine] to pa}', than 
my wages will come to." 

"Tush ! " he answered, " all the reason is, yours is carried 
away, and mine is left ; and if mine had been carried away, 
and yours left, I could not have helped it ! " 

I knowing his mind, I said no more: but told him, "I 
would go on shore, to get men to load the lighter " : but my 
intent was to deliver a letter that I had, to an Honourable 
Person, for his favour and assistance in this troublesome 
affair of mine. 

Ikit meeting with a Gentleman, to whom I shewed the 



'^•^.^gj:] Legal business in the year 1(392. 457 

direction of the letter, and gave an account of my proceed- 
ings; he went with me, and entered an action in the High 
Court of Admiralty, for pTLOOO upon ship and cargo. And 
by the assistance of an Honourable Person, I brought it to a 
trial : and overthrew the Owners and the Freighters, for half 
the ship and of the cargo. 

But they appealed to the High Court of Chancery, and 
having nothing of truth, disgraced me. Withal they in- 
formed the Lords Commissioners [of the Admiralty], that I 
took a bag of money out of the ship belonging to the 
Owners : which the Master told me he delivered to the 
Lieutenant of the Privateer. But I having no proof against 
the same, this did me a great unkindness. 

Yet I overthrew them there [in Chancery] , for the moiety 
of the Ship and Cargo ; and had a decree for the same : 
which decree is enrolled, and so is become a precedent in 
that Court; which will be an advantage to any one that shall 
hereafter retake their ship from the enemy. If they sue 
them in Chancery or the High Court of Admiralty for 
salvage, they will be allowed as much as if it were taken by 
a Privateer. 

Two days after I cast them in the High Court of 
Admiralty, they gave out a false report concerning me. 
How that I had no Conduct, for I ran my ship with full sail 
aboard another ship that was moored in the Thames, ladened 
with the King's provisions and had sunk her. 

Whereupon the owners of the sunk ship, by the wicked 
instigation of m}' adversaries, arrested me on the igth of June 
[1692], in an action for ;r400 [^£"1,200 now], through my 
adversaries' persuasions ; supposing I could not find bail, 
but must have gone to prison ; and then they were in hopes 
of having their designs upon me. But I being bailed, con- 
trary to their expectation, I was obliged to stay till Michael- 
mas Term, following [October, 1692', before I could bring it 
to a trial ; to my great expense and loss of time. 

And I cast them by the evidence of five witnesses, who 
made it appear tli^t the said ship was not sunk by me. 

And so I ended my Law, and the greatest part of my 
money together. 

By the favour of an Honourable Person, I was introduced 



458 The Trial recovered ijya man and a boy. [^VeJ." 

to the Right Noble the Marquis of Carmarthen ; who 
recommended my case to Her Majesty [Queen Mary] : who 
was pleased, as a token of her extraordinary favour, to order 
me a gold medal and chain ; and recommended me to the 
Right Honourable the Lords of the Admiralty for preferment 
in the Fleet ; which I am now [1693] attending the Honour- 
able Board for. 



Thus I have endeavoured to give an impartial Account of 
the whole Matter of Fact, from first to last ; ascribing all 
my success to the omnipotent power of the great GOD, who 
was with me, and protected me throughout the whole action ; 
and made me capable of performing this piece of service for 
my King and country : in whose defence I am still willing 
to serve, and shall as long as I remain to be 



R. L, 



FINIS, 




ADVERTISEMENT. 

Hereas there has been a report industriously spread 
abroad, that it was the boy that persuaded me to 
retrieve ourselves ; this is to satisfy the Reader, that 
that report was maliciously reported of me, and was 
not trice. For it was the boy of another ship, called 
the Trial, of 50 tons, that did desire his Master to fall on upon 
five Frenchmen : and accordinfi;ly they did, and overcame them, 
and brought their ship into Falmouth. For ivhich, the Master 
was immediately made ComnuDuler of the Mary Galley : and /, 
that had used the sea thirteen years [i.e., from ten to twenty- 
thrpe years of age], did but desire the command of a Fire-ship. 

I did design to have given the Reader, a more large account of 
our sufferings in France ; but that it [i.e., such sufferings] was 
already published by Richard Strutton, who has given A 
true Relation of the cruelties and barbarities of the French, 
upon the English prisoners of war. Printed /or Richard 
Baldwin. 




459 



F the four great Prose Writers of the Age of Queen Anne, 
Defoe, Swift, Steele, and Addison (to take them in the 
order of their birth) ; the least known is Defoe. Yet, pro- 
bably, in his own day, he exercised a far greater political 
influence than all the other three put together. 

Being a Dissenter, he was debarred from University training and 
society : and that, more than anything else, excluded him from the 
circles of the Wits at Will's, or at Button's ; who, while they recognised 
his undoubted ability, denied that he had Culture as they understood it. 

In our opinion, Defoe is the greatest Political Writer of his time : 
whether we regard the quantity, the quality, or the enormous influence 
of his Writings. Swift's Works during this reign are not a tithe in 
quantity of those of Defoe. We allow them to be of equal merit as 
regards Style, Wit, and Alluringness of Persuasion : but the superiority 
of character, and the truer insight into things, of the Author of the 
Review, the boundless generosity of his spirit, his humanity, his self- 
abnegation ; all these animate his Writings with higher moral as well 
as artistic qualities than are to be found in those of the Dean of St. 
Patrick's. 

It will be seen at/. 629, that Defoe distinctly rejected all the Dogmas 
of Style of the French Influence : so he is the great native Writer of his 
day. A true Englishman all round. 

It is strange that he lives in Literature through the reputation of 
one of his later left-handed productions, what he would have regarded as 
a mere bagatelle, rather than by the truly splendid Writings which he 
put forth on behalf of English Law and Liberties, all through the reign 
of Queen AXNE : but Daniel Defoe in himself, is far greater than the 
mere Writer of Robinson Crusoe. 

It is necessary that we should understand Defoe's earlier life as he 
himself understood it ; and therefore we have here placed his Appeal to 
Honour a7id Jitstice &^c. which appeared in January, 17 15, before his 
earlier and more famous pieces. 

Of his great Paper, the Review., probably not half a dozen copies exist 
at all : and yet in it, is to be found the true Story of this reign, with all 
its ups and downs, its furies, its agitations, and its delusions. 

Ail these four Writers are much more talked about, than read and 
appreciated. We hope to do something to remedy this in the future. It 
is quite possible to feel the charm of Addison's style as keenly as did 
Lord Macaulay, without disparaging the productions of the other three. 
What Authors they were! Happy wfll that Age be, that shall enjoy the 
outpourings of such a quartet of Geniuses ! 



460 



D 



A N I E L 



Defoe. 



The Revolutio72 of 1688, its pri72ciples and 
purposes^ in a 7tutshelL 

[Written at the time of the trials of Doctor Sacheverel, the High 
Flying Doctor, in the Reviczo Nos. ii8 and 119. Vol. VI. Saturday 
yih and Tuesday 10th January, 17 10.] 

With the linmhlcst submission to the opinion of the British 
Parliament, and yet in a cheerful confidence in their justice, 
love to their country, and zeal for the public peace : I take 
leave to address this Paper to the Commons of Britain, 
assembled at this time in Parliament, as follows. 

He public peace of I)ritain, Right Honour- 
ables ! having by the Wonders of Provi- 
dence, been preserved in the late glorious 
Revolution ; and the religious as well as 
civil liberties of this island been rescued 
from the ruinous projects of Popery and 
Tyranny: it pleased GOD to direct the 
Commons of England by their Representa- 
tives, assembled in Convention in conjunction with the 
Nobility, to apply themselves to such future Establishments 
as might effectually secure us from any subsequent relapse 
into the mischiefs of the former reign. 

'I'd this purpose, they presented the Crown, upon the 
abdication of the late King Jami^s (whom Guilt and Fear 
would not permit to shew his lace among us), to their glorious 
Deliverer, King William, and his blessed Consort, Queen 
Mary then the next Protestant heir in succession : and en- 
tailed it on Her present Majesty [Queen Anne] in default 
of heirs ; without any regard to the other issue of King 
Jamls, then alive or to be born. 




7-ro jI'n"r7?o:] RESULTS OF THE Convention of 1689. 461 

By which celebrated action, I humbly conceive, the Con- 
vention did the several things follovving: whether immediately 
or consequentially, or both, is not material. 

1. They effectually secured the Crown in the hands of Protes- 

tants ; having passed that nevcr-to-bc-fori^ottoi Vote ; 
which was sent up to the Lords, January 22, T68g. 

That it is inconsistent with the Constitution of this Pro- 

testafit Nation, to be governed by a Popish Prince. 

Upon which Claim, our Religion is now established ; 
and our religious rights are all founded and secured. 

2. They asserted the Rights of the People of England, as- 

sembled either in Parliament or Convention, to dispose 
of the Crown, even in bar of hereditary right ; i.e., in 
Parliament style [language] to limit the Succession of the 
Crown. 

By which latter article, I humbly suggest, all the pretences 
of our Princes to an inherent Divine Right of blood, and to an 
Absolute Uncondiuoned Obedience \n their subjects; together 
with that modern delusion of the Unlawfulness of Resistance or 
Sclf-Dcfcnce, in cases of Tyranny and Oppression, were entirely 
suppressed, declared against, and disowned. 

These things (as the Journals of our own House will 
abundantly inform you, and to which I humbly refer) received, 
at divers times and in various manners, all possible sanction, 
both in the same assembled Convention when afterwards 
turned into a Parliament, and in several subsequent Parlia- 
ments to this day, in the several Acts passed in both King- 
doms, for Recognition of King WiLLlAM and Queen Mary, for 
taking the Association for security of the persons of the King and 
Queen, for further Limitation of the Crown, for Settling the Suc- 
cession, and, at last, for Uniting the two Kingdoms. To all 
which Acts, I humbly refer. Every one of them, either 
expressly mentioning, or necessarily implying the Right of 
the Parliament to limit the Succession of their Princes, and to 
declare the established conditions of the People's obedience. 
But all which Acts, the absurd doctrines of Passive Obedience 
and Non-Resistance are, by undeniable consequences, ex- 
ploded and rejected, as inconsistent with the Constitution of 
Britain. 

Now, may it please this Honourable House to consider, 



462 The S e r I e s o f W o n d e r s . Q-xo S'n^if^o! 

that, tliouf^h as this Happy Revolution was estabh'shcd overall 
gainsa}ers, and that all opposition to it was crushed, in both 
Kingdoms, in its beginning : j-et it involved the nation in a 
bloody, expensive, and a tedious war with the King of France ; 
the great Pattern of Tyranny in Europe, and to whom all 
the abdicated Tyrants of Christendom have fled for succour. 
And as this terrible War has continued now above twenty 
years, with a small interval of an imperfect Peace ; and, as 
is usual in like cases, it has been attended with various 
[varying] successes, especially before the late Series of 
Wonder [Marlborough's victories] began, in which GOD 
has signally blessed Her Majesty with an almost uninter- 
rupted success : so the great and powerful enemies of our 
Peace abroad, were not without their secret friends among 
us ; who, as traitors in the bosom of their native country, 
have, by all manner of artifice, from time to time endeavoured 
to weaken the hands of the established Government, to en- 
courage the enemy, and .on all occasions assisted them in 
open invasions or secret treachery, to attempt the Restora- 
tion of Slavery and Bondage upon their own country. 

This is the prayer of the [above] Petition ! this is the 
present cure for all this popular frenzy ! and will do more to 
establish our Peace, than the whole twenty years' war has 
done I this will prepare us, either to carry the war on abroad, 
or to receive peace when GOD shall think fit to trust us with 
that blessing again ! 

That you would be pleased to condemn the Principle ! 

It is nothing what ye do with the man [Doctor 

Sacheverel]. 
The Principle is the plague sore that runs upon the 
nation ; and its contagion infects our gentry, infects our 
clergy, infects our politics ; and afi'ccts the loyalty, the zeal, 
and the peace of the whole island. 

Passive Obedience, Non-Resistance, and the Divine Right 
of Hereditary Succession are inconsistent with the rights of 
the British Nation (not to examine the Rights of Nature)! 
inconsistent with the Constitution of the British Govern- 
ment ! inconsistent with the Ileing and Authority of the 
British Parliament ! and inconsistent with the declared 
essential Foundation of the British Monarchv ! 



7-toj?;n°r7°o:] The beautiful garment of Liberty. 463 

These abhorred notions would destroy the inestimable 
Privile^^es of Britain, of which the House of Commons are 
the glorious conservators ! They would subject all our 
Liberties to the arbitrary lust of a single person ! They 
would expose us to all kinds of tyranny, and subvert the 
very foundations on which we stand ! They would destroy 
the unquestioned sovereignty of our Laws ; which, for so 
many Ages, have triumphed over the invasions and usurpa- 
tions of ambitious Princes ! They would denude us of the 
beautiful garment of Liberty, and prostitute the honour of 
the nation to the mechanicism of Slavery ! They would 
divest GOD Almighty of His praise, in giving His humble 
creatures a right to govern themselves ! and they charge 
Heaven with having meanly subjected mankind to the crime, 
Tyranny ! which He himself abhors. 

It is to this Honourable House, the whole nation now 
looks for relief against these invaders. 

Honest men hope that now is the time when the illegitimate 
spurious birth of these Monsters in Politics shall be exposed 
by your voice. 

Now is the time, when you shall declare it criminal for any 
Man to assert that the subjects of Britain are obliged to an 
absolute unconditioned Obedience to their Princes. The contrary 
being evident by the Claim of Right made, in both Kingdoms 
[England and Scotland], when they tendered the Crowns to 
King William and Queen Mary ; and in the Oath of Govern- 
ment taken by them, at the same time; and which no man, 
by law, can or dare impeach ! and, indeed, ought not to be 
permitted unpunished, to reproach. 

Now is the time, when you shall declare it criminal for any 
man to assert tlie Illegality of Resistance on any pretence what- 
ever &c. ; or, in plain English [against] The Right of Self- 
Defence against Oppression and Violence , whether national or 
personal. 

The contrary of which is evident by the subjects of 
Britain inviting over the Prince of Orange to assert and 
defend the Liberties of this island, and to resist the invasions 
of Popery and Tyranny ; in which he was honourably joined 
by the Nobility and Commons assembled at Nottingham : 
who took arms, anno 1688, to resist the Invaders -of our 
Liberties ; and were assisted and countenanced by the voices 



4''h Rk;iit of Parliament to limit the Crown. [^l.^^^J'^o: 

and persons of the Clergy, the Prelates, and Her i present] 
Majesty in person. 

Now is the time, when you shall a!:^aiu declare the Rights of 
tJie People of England, tithtr in Parliament or in Convention 
assembled, to limit the Succession of the Croicn in bar of heredi- 
tary claims; while those claims are attended with other circum- 
stances inconsistent with the Public Safety and the established 
Laws of the Land. Since Her Majesty's Title to the Crown 
(as now owned and acknowledged by the whole nation) and 
the Succession to the Crown (as entailed by the Act of Succes- 
sion in England, and the late Union of IJritain), are built on 
the Right of Parliament to limit the Crown, and that Right 
w^as recognized by the Revolution. 



This is the substance of the Author's humble application, 
viz. : 

That the Sense of the House as to the principles of 
Passive Obedience, Non-Resistance, and Parliamentary 
Limitation might be so declared, as that this wicked Party 
may be no more at liberty to insult the Government, the 
Queen, and the Parliament ; or to disturb the peace, or 
debauch the loyalty of Her Majesty's subjects. 




A 



n 



Appeal 

to 

Honour and Justice^ 

though it be of 

hts worst Enemies. 

By DANIEL DE FOE. 

Being 

a true Account of his Conduct 

in Public Affairs. 

Jerem. xviii. i8. 

Come, and let us smite him with the tongue, and let us not give 

heed to any of his words. 

L O N D O N: 

Printed for J. Baker, at the Black Boy, in 

Paternoster row. i 7 i 5 . 
eng.gar.wu. 30 



467 



An 



^ p p e a I 




to 

Honour and jfustice^ ^c. 

Hope the Time is come at last, when the voice 
of Moderate Principles may be heard. Hither- 
to, the noise has been so great, and the preju- 
dices and passions of men so strong, that it 
had been but in vain to offer at any argument, 
or for any man to talk of giving a reason for 
his actions. And this alone has been the 
cause why, when other men (who, I think, have 
less to say in their own defence) are appealing to the 
public, and struggling to defend themselves ; I, alone, have 
been silent, under the infinite clamours and reproaches, 
causeless curses, unusual threatenings, and the most unjust 
and injurious treatment in the world. 

I hear much of people's calling out to Punish the Guilty ! 
but very few are concerned to Clear the Innocent ! I hope 
some will be inclined to judge impartially ; and have yet 
reserved so much of the Christian as to believe, and at least 
to hope, that a rational creature cannot abandon himself so 
as to act without some reason : and are willing not only to 
have me defend myself; but to be able to answer for me, 
where they hear me causelessly insulted by others, and 
therefore are willing to have such just Arguments put into 
their mouths, as the cause will bear. 

As for those who are prepossessed, and according to the 
modern justice of Parties are resolved to be so, let them go ! 
I am not arguing with them, but against tliciii ! They act so 
contrary to Justice, to Reason, to Religion, so contrary to 
the rules of Christians and of good manners, that they are 



468 Reasons for Pur.LisniNO this Appeal. \_^,;J^f^^, 

not to be argued with, but to be exposed or entirely neglected. 
I have a receipt against all the uneasiness which it may be 
supposed to give me ; and that is, to contemn slander, and to 
think it not worth the least concern. Neither should I think 
it worth while to give any answer to it, if it were not on 
some other accounts, of which I shall speak as I go on. 

If any man ask me. Why I am in such haste to publish this 
matter at this time ? among many other good reasons which 
I could give, these are some : 

1. I think I have long enough been made fahiila vulgi, 
and borne the weight of general slander ; and I should 
be wanting to truth, to my family, and to myself, if 
I did not give a fair and true state of my conduct, for 
impartial men to judge of, when I am no more in being, 
to answer for myself. 

2. By the hints of mortality, and by the infirmities of 
a Life of Sorrow and Fatigue, I have reason to think 
that I am not a great way off from, if not very near 
to, the great Ocean of Eternity ; and the time may 
not be long ere I embark on the last voyage. Where- 
fore I think, I should even accounts with this world, 
before I go : that no actions (slanders) may lie against 
my heirs, executors, administrators, and assigns, to 
disturb them in the peaceable possession of their 
father's inheritance (character). 

3. I fear (GOD grant I have not a second sight in it !) 
that this lucid interval of Temper and Moderation 
which shines, though dimly too, upon us at this time, 
will be but of short continuance : and that some men 
(who know not how to use the advantage, GOD has put 
into their hands) with moderation, will push (in spite 
of the best Prince of the world) at such extravagant 
things, and act with such an intemperate forwardness, 
as will revive the Heats and Animosities, which wise 
and good men were in hopes should be allayed by the 
happy Accession of the King [George I.J to the throne. 

It is, and ever was, my opinion that Moderation is the only 
virtue by which the peace and tranquility of this nation can 



wl^'7^4'] Moderation alone will secure peace. 469 

be preserved. Even the King himself (I beHeve His Majesty 
will allow me tliat freedom !) can only be happy in the en- 
joyment of the crown by a Moderate Administration. If His 
Majesty should be obliged, contrary to his known disposition, 
to join with intemperate counsels ; if it does not lessen his 
security, I am persuaded it wull lessen his satisfaction ! It 
cannot be pleasant or agreeable, and, I think, it cannot be 
safe to any just Prince to rule over a divided people, split 
into incensed and exasperated Parties. Though a skilful 
mariner may have courage to master a tempest, and goes 
fearless through a storm ; yet he can never be said to deiight 
in the danger ! A fresh fair gale and a quiet sea are the 
pleasure of his voyage : and we have a saying worth notice, 
to them that are otherwise minded, Qui amat periciUum 
periibat in illo. 

To attain at the happy Calm, which, as I say, is the safety 
of Britain, is the question which should now move us all : 
and he would merit to be called the Nation's Physician that 
could prescribe the specific for it. I think I may be allowed 
to say, a Conquest of Parties will never do it ! a Balance uf 
Parties may ! Some are for the former. They talk high 
of punishments ! letting blood ! revenging treatment they 
have met with ! and the like. If they, not knowing what 
spirit they are of, think this the course to be taken, let them 
try their hands ! I shall give them up for lost ! and look 
for their downfall from that time. For the ruin of all such 
tempers slumbereth not ! 

It is many years that I have professed myself an enemy to 
all Precipitations in Public Administrations ; and often I have 
attempted to shew that Hot Counsels have ever been destruc- 
tive to those who have made use of them. Indeed, they have 
not always been a disadvantage to the nation. As in King 
James II. 's reign : where, as I have often said in print, his 
precipitation was the safety of us all; and if he had proceeded 
temperately and politicly, we had been undone. Foelix qucni 
faciunt. But these things have been spoken, when your 
ferment has been too high tor anything to be heard. Whether 
you will hear it now or not, I know not ! and therefore it was 
that I said, I fear the present Cessation of Party Arms will 
not hold long. 

These are some of the reasons, why I think this is a proper 



4/0 Inducements to Defoe to go to Cadiz, [^^v^^f^"^: 

juncture for me to t^ive some account of myself and of my 
past conduct to the world ; and that I may do this as 
effectually as I can (being, perhaps, never more to speak 
from the Press), I shall, as concisely as I can, give an 
Abridgement of my own History, during the few unhappy 
years I have employed myself, or been employed in Public in 
the World. 



Misfortunes in business having unhinged me from matters 
of trade, it was about the year 1694, that I was invited (by 
some merchants with whom I had corresponded abroad, and 
some also at home) to settle at Cadiz in Spain ; and that, 
with offers of very good commissions : but Providence, which 
had other work for me to do, placed a secret aversion in my 
mind to quitting England upon any account ; and made me 
refuse the best offers of that kind, to be concerned with some 
lunincnt Persons at home, in proposing Ways and Means to 
the Government, for raising money to supply the occasions 
of the war then newly begun. 

Some time after this, I was (without the least application 
of mine, and being then seventy miles from London) sent 
for, to be Accountant to the " Commissioners of the Glass 
Duty": in which service I continued, to the determination 
of their commission |in i6g8j. 

During this time [or rather sonieiohat later, on 1st August 
1700], there came out a vile, abhorred pamphlet, in very ill 
verse, written by one Mr. Tutchin, called TJie Foreigners : in 
which the Author (who he was, I then knew not !) fell 
personally upon the King himself, and then upon the Dutch 
nation ; and after having reproached His Majesty with 
crimes that his worst enemy could not think of without 
horror, he sums up all in the odious name of " P'oreigner ! " 

This filled me with a kind of rage against the book ; and 
gave birth to a triile which I never could hope should have 
met with so general an acceptation as it did. I mean The 
Tiuc Born EnglisJunan \zvhich appeared in January, 1701.. 

How this poem was the occasion of my being known to 
Plis Majesty [WiLLlAM III.] ; how I was afterwards received 
by him ; how employed ; and how (above my capacity of 
deserving) rewarded ; is no part of this present Case : and is 



N^'v!^ifM.] Defoe in the service of William III 471 

only mentioned here, as I take all occasions to do, for the 
expressing of the honour I ever preserved for the immortal 
and glorious memory of that greatest and hest of Princes ; 
whom it was my honour and advantage to call Master as well 
as Sovereign ! whose goodness to me I never forgot, neither 
can forget ! whose memory I never patiently heard abused, 
nor ever can do so ! and who, had he lived, would never have 
suffered me to be treated, as I have been in the World ! 

But Heaven, for our sins, removed him, in judgement. 
How far the treatment he met with from the nation he came 
to save, and whose deliverance he finished, was admitted by 
Heaven to be a means of his death ; I desire to forget, for 
their sakes, who are guilty. And if this calls any of it to 
mind, it is mentioned to move them to treat him better who 
is now, with like principles of goodness and clemency, ap- 
pointed by GOD and the Constitution, to be their Sovereign : 
lest He that protects righteous Princes, avenge the injuries 
they receive from an ungrateful people ! by giving them up 
to the confusions, their madness leads them to. 



And in their just acclamations at the happy Accession of 
His present Majesty [George I.] to the throne, I cannot 
but advise them to look back, and call to mind, Who it was, 
that first guided them to the Family of Hanover, and to 
pass by all the Popish branches of Orleans and Savoy ? 
recognizing the just authority of Parliament, in the undoubted 
Right of Limiting the Succession, and establishing that 
glorious Maxim of our Settlement, viz., That it is inconsistent 
with the Constitution of this Protestant Kingdom to be governed 
by a Popish Prince. I say, let them call to mind, Who it was 
that guided their thoughts first to the Protestant race of our 
own Kings, in the House of Hanover ? and that it is to King 
William, next to Heaven itself, to whom we owe the enjoying 
of a Protestant King at this time. 

I need not go back to the particulars of His Majesty's 
conduct in that affair, his journey in person to the country of 
Hanover, and the Court of Zell, his particular management 
of the affair afterwards at home, perfecting the design by 
naming the illustrious Family to the nation, and bringing 
about a Parliamentary Settlement to effect it ; entailing 



4/2 Defoe never feared the Pretender. [J^v'^f^;'^; 

therel)y the Crown in so effectual a manner, as we see has 
been sufficient to prevent the worst designs of our Jacobite 
people in behalf of the Pretender. A Settlement, together 
with the subsequent Acts which followed it, and the Union 
with Scotland which made it unalterable, that gave a complete 
satisfaction to those who knew and understood it ; and re- 
moved those terrible apprehensions of the Pretender (which 
some entertained) from the minds of others, who were yet as 
zealous against him as it was possible for any to be. Upon 
this Settlement, as I shall shew presently, I grounded my 
opinion, which I often expressed, viz., That I did not see it 
possible, the Jacobites could ever set up their Idol here! and I think 
my opinion abundantly justified in the consequences: of which 
by-and-by. 

This digression, as a debt to the glorious memory of King 
William, I could not in justice omit : and as the reign of His 
present Majesty is esteemed happy, and looked upon as a 
blessing from heaven by us ; it will most necessarily lead us 
to bless the memory of King William, to whom we owe so 
much of it. How easily could His Majesty have led us to 
other branches, whose relation to the Crown might have had 
large pretences? What Prince but would have submitted to 
have educated a successor of their race in the Protestant 
Religion, for the sake of such a Crown ! But the King, who 
had our happiness in view, and saw as far into it as any 
human sight could penetrate ; who knew we were not to be 
governed by inexperienced youths ; that the Protestant 
Religion was not to be established by Political Ccmverts ; 
and that Princes under French iniluence or instructed in 
French politics, were not proper Instruments to preserve the 
Liberties of Britain : fixed his e^es upon the Family which 
now possesses the Crown, as not only having an undoubted 
relation to it by blood, but as being, first and principally, 
zealous and powerful assertors of the Protestant Religion and 
Interest against Popery ; and, secondly, stored with a visible 
succession of worthy and promising branches, who appeared 
equal to the weight of Government, qualified to fill a Throne, 
and guide a Nation, which (without any refiection) are not 
famed to be the most easy to rule in the world. 

Whether the consequence has been a credit to King 
W^illiam's judgement, I need not say. I am not writing 



Nuv^if":! Si^^ E. Seymour's Party, the Hot Men. 473 

panej^yrics here, but doing justice to the memory of the King 
my Master, who I have had the honour very often to hear 
express himself with great satisfaction in having brought the 
Settlement of the Succession to so good an issue : and to 
repeat His Majesty's own words, " That he knew no Prince 
in Europe so fit to be King of England, as the Elector of 
Hanover." I am persuaded, without any flattery, thatif it 
should not every way answer the expectations His Majesty 
had of it, the fault will be our own! GOD grant the King 
to have more comfort of his Crown, than we suffered King 
William to have ! 

The King being dead, and the Queen [Anne] proclaimed; 
the Hot Men of that side (as Hot Men of all sides do) thinking 
the game in their own hands, and all other people under 
their feet — began to run out into all those mad extremes, and 
precipitate themselves into such measures, as, according to 
the fate of all intemperate counsels, ended in their own 
confusion, and threw them at last out of the saddle. 

The Queen (who, though willing to favour the High 
Church party, did not thereby design the ruin of those she 
did not employ) was soon alarmed at their wild conduct, and 
turned them out : adhering to the moderate counsels of those 
who better understood, or more faithfully pursued Her 
Majesty's and their country's Interest. 

In this turn, fell " Sir Edward Seymour's Party" ; for so 
the High Men were then called : and to this turn, we owe 
the conversion of several other Great Men; who became 
Whigs upon that occasion, which it is known they were not 
before. Which conversion begat that unkind distinction of 
"Old Whig" and "Modern Whig"; which some of the 
former were, with very little justice, pleased to run up after- 
wards to an extreme very pernicious to both. 



But I am gone too far in this part. I return to my own 
story. In the interval of these things, and during the heat 
of the first fury of High Flying; I fell a sacrifice for writing 
against the rage and madness of that High Party, and in the 
service of the Dissenters. What justice I met with! and 
above all, what mercy ! are too well known to need a 
repetition. 



474 Defoe's release, the Foundation of his conduct. 

This Introduction is made that it may bring me to what 
has been the Foundation of all my further concern in Public 
Affairs : and will produce a sufficient reason for my adhering 
to those, whose obligations upon me were too strong to be 
resisted ; even when many things were done by them, which 
I could not approve. And for this reason it is, that I think 
it is necessary to distinguish how far I did or did not adhere 
to, or join in or with the Persons or Conduct of the late 
Government [i.e., of Lord Oxford's Administration, 1710- 
1714] : and those who are willing to judge with impartiality 
and charity, will see reason to use me more tenderly in their 
thoughts, when they weigh the particulars. 

I will make no reflections upon the treatment I met with 
from the people / suffered fori or how I was abandoned, even 
in my suffering's, at the same time that they acknowledged the 
service it had been to their cause. 

But I must mention it, to let you know, that while I lay 
friendless and distressed in the prison of Newgate, myfamil}' 
ruined, and myself without hope of deliverance ; a message 
was brought [in May, 1704] me from a Person of Honour 
[Robert Harley, afterwards Lord Oxford], with whom, till 
that time, I had never had the least acquaintance or know- 
ledge of, other than by fame, or by sight as we know Men 
of Quality by seeing them on public occasions. I gave no 
present [immediate] answer to the person who brought it, 
having not duly weighed the import of the message : which 
was by word of mouth thus, " Pray ask that Gentleman, 
what I can do for him ? " 

But in return to this kind and generous message, I 
immediately took my pen and ink, and wrote the story of the 
blind man in the Gospel who followed our Saviour, and to 
whom our blessed LORD put the question, " What wilt thou, 
that I should do unto thee ? " who, as if he had made it 
strange that such a question should be asked; or as if he had 
said, " Lord ! dost thou see that I am blind ! and yet asketh 
me what thou shalt do for me ? My answer is plain in my 
misery, ' Lord ! that I may receive my sight ! ' " 

I needed not to make the application : and from this time, 
although I lay four months [May-August, 1704] in prison 
after this, and heard no more of it ; yet from this time, as I 
learned afterwards, this Noble Person made it his business 



K^V^itM'] Q^'EEN Anne blames Lord Nottingham. 475 

to have my Case represented to Her Majest}-, and methods 
taken for my deliverance. 

I mention this part, because I am no more to forget the 
ObHgation upon me to the Queen, than to my First Bene- 
factor. 

When Her Majesty came to have the truth of the case 
laid before her, I soon felt the effects of her royal goodness 
and compassion. And first. Her Majesty declared " that she 
left all that matter to a certain person [Daniel Finch, Earl 
of Nottingham], and did not think he would have used me 
in such a manner." 

Perhaps these words may seem imaginary to some, and 
the speaking of them to be of no value ; and so they would 
have been, if they had not been followed with further and 
more convincing proofs of what they imported : which were 
these. That Her Majesty was pleased particularly to inquire 
into my circumstances and family ; and by my Lord Trea- 
surer GoDOLPHiN, to send a considerable supply to my wife 
and family ; and to send to me in the prison, money to pay 
my fine, and the expenses of my discharge. Whether this be 
a just Foundation, let my enemies judge ! 

Here is the Foundation on which I built my first Sense of 
Duty to Her Majesty's person ; and the indelible bond of 
gratitude to my First Benefactor. 

Gratitude and Fidelity are inseparable from an honest man ! 
but to be thus obliged by a stranger, by a Man of Quality 
and Honour; and after that, by the Sovereign under whose 
Administration I was suffering : let any one put himself in 
my stead ! and examine upon what principles I could ever act 
against either such a Queen, or such a Benefactor ! And what 
must have my own heart reproached me with ! what blushes 
must have covered my face, when I had looked in and called 
myself ungrateful to Him that saved me thus from distress I 
or to Her that fetched me out of the dungeon, and gave my 
family relief! Let any man who knows what principles are, 
what engagements of honour and gratitude are, make this 
case his own ! and say, What I could have done less, or more, 
than I have done ? 

I must go on a little with the detail of the Obligation ; and 
then I shall descend to relate, What I have done, and What I 
have not done, in this case. 



476 Faithfulness op^ Defoe to Harley. [no;.^,'7'^'4: 

Being delivered from the distress I was in ; Her Majesty, 
who was not satisfied to do me good by a single act of her 
bounty, had the goodness to think of taking me into her 
Service : and I had the honour to be employed in several 
honourable though secret services, by the interposition of my 
First Benefactor, who then appeared as a member in the 
Public Administration [Robert Harley had succeeded Lord 
Nottingham, as Secretary of State, on May i8, 1704]. 

I had the happiness to discharge myself in all these trusts 
so much to the satisfaction of those who employed me, 
though oftentimes with difficulty and danger : that my 
Lord Treasurer Godolphin (whose memory I have always 
honoured) was pleased to continue his favour to me, and to 
do me all good offices with Her Majesty — even after an 
unhappy breach had separated him from my First Benefactor. 
The particulars of which [favour] it may not be improper to 
relate ; and as it is not an injustice to any, so I hope it will 
not be offensive. 

When, upon that fatal breach [February 15, 1708], the 
Secretary of State [Harley] was dismissed from the Service; 
I looked upon myself as lost ! it being a general rule in such 
cases, when a Great Officer falls, that all who came in by his 
Interest, fall with him. And resolving never to abandon the 
fortunes of the Man to whom I owed so much of my own ; I 
quitted the usual applications which I had made to my Lord 
Treasurer. 

But my generous benefactor, when he understood it, frankly 
told me, " That I should, by no means, do so ! for," said he, 
in the most engaging terms, "my Lord Treasurer will employ 
you in nothing but what is for the Public Service, and agree- 
able to your own sentiments of things : and, besides, it is the 
Queen you are serving! who has been very good to you. 
Pray apply yourself as you used to do ! I shall not take it 
ill from you in the least." 

Upon this, I went to wait on my Lord Treasurer, who 
received me with great freedom, and told me smiling, " He 
had not seen me a long while." 

I told his Lordship very frankly the occasion. " That the 
unhappy breach that had fallen out had made me doubtful 
\vhether I should be acceptable to his Lordship, that I knew 
it was usual when Great Persons fall, that all who were in 



D. De^oe.-j Yet HE DOES NOT SEE III.M FOR 3 YEARS. 477 

iNOV. 1714.J ^ 

their Interest fell with them ; that his Lordship knew the 
obligations I was under, and that I could not but fear my 
Interest in his Lordship was lessened on that account." 

" Not at all, Mr. De Foe ! " replied his Lordship, " I 
always think a man honest, till I find to the contrary." 

Upon this, I attended his Lordship as usual : and being 
resolved to remove all possible ground of suspicion that I 
kept any secret correspondence with him', I never visited, 
nor wrote to, or in any way corresponded with, my Principal 
Benefactor ;f.c.,H^i?L£y] for above three years ,'1708 to 1711]; 
which he so well knew the reason of, and so well approved 
that punctual behaviour in me ; that he never took it ill from 
me at all. 

In consequence of this reception [? in 170S;, my Lord 
GoDOLPHiN had the goodness, not only to introduce me, for 
the second time, to Her Majesty and to the honour of kissing 
her hand, but obtained for me the continuance of an appoint- 
ment which Her Majesty had been pleased to make me in 
consideration of a former special service I had done [in a 
foreign country, see pp. 4S1, 4gS], and in which I had run as much 
risk of my life as a Grenadier upon the Counterscarp : which 
appointment however was first obtained for me, at the inter- 
cession of my said First Benefactor [Harley], and is all 
owing to that intercession and Her Majesty's bounty. 

Upon this second introduction, Her Majesty was pleased 
to tell me, with a goodness peculiar to herself, that she " had 
such satisfaction in my former services, that she had ap- 
pointed me for another affair, which was something nice 
[delicate or difficnlt], and that my Lord Treasurer, should tell 
me the rest." 

And so I withdrew. 

The next day, his Lordship, having commanded me to 
attend, told me that " he must send me into Scotland," and 
gave me but three days to prepare myself. 

Accordingly, I went to Scotland : where neither my busi- 
ness, nor the manner of my discharging it, is material to 
this Tract ; nor will it be ever any part of my character that I 
reveal what should be concealed. And yet my errand was 
such as was far from being unfit for a Sovereign to dn-ect, or 
an honest man to perform : and the service I did on that 
occasion, as it is not unknown to the greatest man Jhe 



4/8 An honest man connot v>e ungrateful. [Kw^f^^4! 

Duke of Shrewsbury] now in the nation, under the Kinj:^ and 
the Prince [of WaleSj ; so, I dare say, His Grace was never 
displeased with the part I had in it, and I hope will not 
forget it. 

These things I mention, upon this account and no other ; 
viz., to state tJie Oblit^ation I have been in, all along, to Her 
Majesty personally ; and to my First Benefactor principally : by 
which I say, I think I was at least obliged not to act against 
them ; even in those things which I might not approve. 

Whether I have acted with them further than I ought, 
shall be spoken to by itself. 

Having said thus much of the Obligations laid on me, and 
the Persons by whom ; I have only this to add, that I think 
no man will say, a subject could be under greater bonds to 
his Prince, or a private person to a Minister of State : and I 
shall ever preserve this principle, that An honest man cannot 
he ungrateful to his benefactor ! 

But let no man run away, now, with the notion that I am 
now intending to plead the Obligation that was upon me 
from Her Majesty or from any other person, to justify my 
doing anything that is not otherwise to be justified in itself. 
Nothing would be more injurious, than such a construction; 
and therefore I capitulate [stipulate] for so much justice as 
to explain myself by this declaration, viz. 

That I only speak of these obligations as binding me to a 
Negative conduct : not to fly in the face of, or concern myself in 
disputes with, those to whom I was under such obligations ; 
although I might not, in my judgement, join in many things that 
were done. 

No Obligation could excuse me in calling evil, good ; or 
good, evil : but I am of the opinion that I might justly think 
myself obliged to defend what I thought was to be defended, 
and to be silent in anything which I might think was not. 

If this is a crime, I must plead " Guilty ! " and give in 
the History of my Obligation above mentioned, as an extenu- 
ation, at least, if not a justification of my conduct. 

Suppose a man's father was guilty of several things 
unlawful and unjustifiable ; a man may heartily detest the 
unjustiliable thing, and yet it ought not to be expected that 
he should expose his father ! 1 think the case on my side, 



N^V.^i^M-] The Charges made against Defoe. 479 

exactly the same. Nor can the duty to a parent be more 
strongly obliging, than the Obligation laid on me. But I 
must allow the case on the other side, not the same. 



And this brings me to the Affirmative, and to inquire. 
What the matters of fact are ? what I have done, or have not 
done, on account of these Obligations which I have been 
under? 

It is a general suggestion, and is affirmed with such 
assurance that they tell me, " It is in vain to contradict it ! " 
that / have been employed by the Earl of 0[xfor]d, the late Lord 
Treasurer, in the late dispictes about Public Affairs, to write for 
him, or to put it into their own particulars, have written by 
his direction, taken the materials from him, been dictated to or 
instructed by him, or by other persons from him, by his order, 
and the like ; and that / have received a pension, or salary, or 
payment from his Lordship for such services as these. 

If I could put it into words that would more fully express 
the micaning of these people, I profess I would do it. 

One would think it was impossible, but that since these 
things have been so confidently affirmed, some evidence 
might be produced ! some facts might appear ! some one 
body or other might be found, that could speak of certain 
knowledge ! To say " things have been carried too closely to 
be discovered," is saying nothinf^l for, then, they must own 
that " it is not discovered " : and how, then, can they affirm 
it as they do, with such an assurance as nothing ought to be 
affirmed by honest men, unless they were able to prove it? 

To speak, then, to the fact. Were the reproach upon me 
only in this particular, I should not mention it. I should 
not think it a reproach to be directed by a man to whom the 
Queen had at that time entrusted the Administration of the 
Government. But as it is a reproach upon his Lordship, 
Justice requires that I do right in this case. 

The thing is true, or false. I would recommend it to 
those who would be called honest men, to consider but one 
thing, viz. What if it should not be true ! Can they justify 
the injury done to that Person, or to any person concerned ? 
If it cannot be proved, if no vestiges appear to ground it 
upon ; how can they charge men upon rumours and reports, 



480 Defoe a terfectlv ixdepexdext writer. [>J^v°,'^^''';'^; 

and join to run men's characters down by the stream of 
clamour. 

Scd quo rapit impetus under. 

In answer to the charge, I bear witness to posterity, that 
every part of it is false and forged ! and I do solemnl}' protest, 
in the fear and presence of HIM that shall judge us all, 
both the slanderers and the slandered, that / have not received 
any instructions, directions, orders, or let them call it what 
they will ! of that kind, for the writing of any part of what I 
have written ; or any materials for the putting together, for the 
forming any hook or pamphlet whatsoever, from the said Earl of 
0[xfor]D, late Lord Treasurer ; or from any person, by his order 
or direction, since the time that the late Earl of G[ODOLPHl]N 
was Lord Treasurer [August 10, 1710]. Neither did I ever 
shew, or cause to he shewn to his Lordship, for his approbation, 
correction, alteration, or for any other cause, any hook, paper, or 
pamphlet which I have written and published, before the same 
was printed, worked off at the press, and published . 

If any man can detect me of the least prevarication in this, 
or in any part of it, I desire him to do it, by all means ! and 
I challenge all the world to do it ! And if they cannot, then 
I appeal, as in my title, to the honour and justice of my worst 
enemies, to know, upon what foundation of truth or con- 
science, they can affirm these things ; and for what it is, 
that I bear these reproaches ? 

In all my writing, I never capitulated [stipulated^ for my 
liberty to speak according to my own judgement of things. 
I ever had that liberty allowed me ! nor was I ever imposed 
upon to write this way or that, against my judgement, by 
any person whatsoever. 



I come now, historically, to the point of time, when my 
Lord GoDOLPHiN was dismissed from his emplo}ment ; and 
the late unhappy divisicm broke out at Court. 

I waited on my Lord, the day he was displaced '[August 10, 
1710] ; and humbly asked hisLordship'sdirection,\\'hatcourse 
I should take? 

His Lordship's answer was, that " He had the same good 
will to assist me; but not the same power"; that " I was 
the Queen's servant; and that all he had done for me, was 



^ifit'] Defoe not involved in mixisterl\l quarrels. 48 1 

by Her Majesty's special and particular direction"; and that 
*' Whoever should succeed him, it was not material to me ; 
he ' supposed I should be emplo3'ed in nothing relating to 
the present differences.' My business was to wait till I saw 
things settled ; and then apply myself to the Ministers of 
State, to receive Her Majesty's commands from them." 

It occurred to me immediately, as a Principle for my con- 
duct, that it was not material to me [Defoe being practically 
one of the permanent Civil Servants of the Crown] what Ministers 
Her Majesty was pleased to employ. My duty was to go 
along with every Alinistry, so far as they did not break in upon 
the Constitution, and the Laws and Liberties of my country ; my 
part being only the duty of a subject, viz., to submit to all 
lawful commands, and to enter into no service which was not 
justifiable by the Laws. 

To all which I have exactly obliged [conformed] myself. 

By this, I was providentially cast back upon my Original 
Benefactor [Robert Harley], who, according to his wonted 
goodness, was pleased to lay my case before Her Majesty ; 
and thereby I preserved my interest in Her Majesty's favour, 
but without any engagement of service [i.e., lie was not 
employed on any special secret mission]. 

As for consideration, pension, gratification, or reward ; I 
declare to all the world ! I have had none ! except only that 
old appointment which Her Majesty was pleased to make 
me in the days of the Ministry of my Lord Godolphin ; of 
which I have spoken already [pp. 477, 49S', and which was 
for services done in a foreign country, some years before. 

Neither have I been employed, or directed, or ordered by 
my Lord T[reasure]r \Lord Oxford] aforesaid, to do, or not 
to do, anything in the affairs of the unhappy differences 
[between Lords OXFORD and BOLINGBROKE] which have so 
long perplexed us ; and for which I have suffered so many, 
and such unjust reproaches. 

I come next to enter into the Matters of Fact, and what 
it is I have done, or not done ; which may justify the treat- 
ment I have met with. 

And first, for the Negative part. What I have not done. 

The first thing in the unhappy breaches which have fallen 
out, is tile heaping up scandal upon the persons and conduct 

£Ac.c.i/;.wn. 31 



482 The Change in 17 10, a national disaster. [J^vl^f^"^; 

of Men of Honour, on one side as well as on the other : 
those unworthy methods, of falling upon one another by 
personal calumny and reproach. 

This I have often, in print, complained of as an unchristian, 
ungenerous, and unjustifiable practice. Not a word can be 
found in all I have written, reflecting on the persons or con- 
duct of any of the former Ministry [i.e., Lord Godolphin's]. 
I served Her Majesty under their Administration. They 
acted honourably and justly in every transaction in which I 
had the honour to be concerned with them : and I never 
published or said anything dishonourable of any of them in 
my life ; nor can the worst enemy I have, produce any such 
thing against me. 

I always regretted the Change [i.e., of Ministry in August, 
1710] ; and looked upon it as a great disaster to the nation 
in general. I am sure it was so to me in particular ; and 
the divisions and feuds among parties which followed that 
Change, were doubtless a disaster to us all. 

The next thing which followed the Change was the Peace 
[i.e., the Peace of Utreclit on April 11, 1713'. 

No man can say that ever I once said in my life, that " I 
approved of the Peace." I wrote a public Paper at that 
time [1713], and there it remains upon record against me. 
I printed it openly, and that so plainly, as others durst not 
do, that " I did not like the Peace ; neither that which was 
made, nor that which was, before, a making" [the Negotia- 
tions at Gcrtrnydcnburg in 1710] ; that " I thought the Pro- 
testant Interest was not taken care of, in either." That 
" the Peace I was for, was such as should neither have given 
the Spanish Monarchy to the House of Bourbon, nor [to] the 
House of Austria; but that this bone of contention should 
have been broken to pieces : that it should not have been 
dangerous to Europe on any account :" and that " the Pro- 
testant Powers (Britain and the States [Holland]) should 
have so strengthened and fortified their Interest by sharing the 
commerce and strength of Spain, as should have made them 
no more afraid either of France, or the Emperor; so that the 
Protestant Interest should have been superior to all the 
Powers of Europe, and been in no more danger of exorbitant 
power, whether French or Austrian." 

This was the Peace I argued for, pursuant to the design 



N^v'^.fH-] Defoe's relation to Peace of Utrecht. 483 

of King William in the Treaty of Partition ; and pursuant 
to that Article in the Grand Alliance, which was directed by 
the same glorious hand, at the beginning of this last war 
[1702-1713 A.D.\ that all we should conquer in the Spanish 
West Indies should he our own. 

This was, with a true design that England and Holland 
should have turned their naval power, which was eminently 
superior to that of France, to the conquest of the Spanish 
West Indies : by which the channel of trade and return of 
bullion, which now enrich the enemies of both, had been 
ours ; and as the Wealth, so the Strength of the World had 
been in Protestant hands. Spain, whoever had it, must 
then have been dependent upon us. The House of Bour- 
bon would have found it so poor, without us, as to be scarce 
worth fighting for : and the people so averse to them, for 
want of their commerce, as not to make it ever likely France 
could keep it. 

This was the Foundation I ever acted upon with relation 
to the Peace. 

It is true, that when it was made, and could not be other- 
wise, I thought our business was to make the best of it, and 
rather to inquire what improvements were to be made of it, 
than to be continually exclaiming at those who made it : 
and where the objection lies against this part, I cannot yet see ! 

While I spoke of things in this manner, I bore infinite 
reproaches from clamouring pens, of " being in the French 
Interest ! being hired and bribed to defend a bad Peace ! " 
and the like : and most of this was upon a supposition of my 
writing, or being the author of [an] abundance of pamphlets 
which came out every day ; and which I had no hand in. 

And, indeed, as I shall observe again, by-and-by, this was 
one of the greatest pieces of injustice that could be done me, 
and which 1 labour still under without any redress ; that, 
whenever any piece comes out which is not liked, I am 
immediately charged with being the author ! and, very often, 
the first knowledge I have had of a book's being published, 
has been from seeing myself abused for being the author 
of it, in some other pamphlet published in answer to it. 

Finding myself treated in this manner, I declined writing 
at all ; and, for a great part of a year [i.e. in 1712I, never set 
pen to paper, except in the public Paper called the Review. 



484 Books against the Jacobites in 171 2-3. [Nov^,f°3: 

After this, I was long absent in the north of England, and 
observing the insolence of the Jacobite party, and how they 
insinuated tine things into the heads of the common people, 
of the Right and Claim of the Pretender, and of the Great 
Things he would do for us, if he was to come in ; of his being 
to turn a Protestant ; of his being resolved to maintain our 
liberties, support our funds, give liberty to Dissenters, and 
the like : and finding that the people began to be deluded, 
r.nd that the Jacobites gained ground among them, by these 
insinuations, I thought it the best service I could do the 
Protestant Interest, and the best way to open the people's 
eyes to the advantages of the Protestant Succession, if 
I took some course effectually to alarm the people with 
what they really ought to expect, if the Pretender should 
come to be King. And this made me set pen to paper 
again [in 1712]. 

And this brings me to the Affirmative part, or to What 
really / have done ? and in this, I am sorry to say, I have 
one of the foulest, most unjust, and unchristian clamours to 
complain of, that any man has suffered, I believe, since the 
days of the tyranny of James 1 1. 

In order to detect the influence of Jacobite emissaries, as 
above ; the first thing I wrote, was a small tract, called, A 
seasonable Caution. [The full title is, A seasonable Warning 
and Caution against the Insinuations of Papists and Jacobites in 
favour of the Pretender. Being a Letter from an Englishman at 
the Court of Hanover. 24 pp. Published in 1712.] A book 
sincerely written to open the eyes of the poor ignorant country 
people, and to warn them against the subtle insinuations of 
the emissaries of the Pretender. And that it might be effec- 
tual to that purpose, I prevailed with several of my friends, to 
give them away among the poor people all over England, 
especially in the North : and several thousands were actually 
given away, the price being reduced so low, that the bare 
expense of Paper and Press was only preserved ; that every 
one might be convinced that nothing of gain was designed, but 
a sincere endeavour to do a public good, and assist to keep the 
people entirely in the Interest of the Protestant Succession. 

Next to this, and with the same sincere design, I wrote 
two pamphlets; one entituled, What if the Pretender should 



D. Defoe 
Nov 



Y^^^li] Their immense influence, 485 



come? [The full title is And what if the Pretender should 
come ? Or some considerations of the Advantages and real Con 
sequences of the Pretendc/s possessing the Crown of Great 
Britain. 44 pp. Published March 26, 1713.] The other, 
Reasons against the Succession of the House of Hanover. [The 
full title is, Reasons against the Sticcession of the House of 
Hanover; with an Inquiry how far the Abdication of King 
James, supposing it to be legal, ought to affect the Person of 
the Pretender. 48 pp. Published February 21, 1713.J 
Nothing can be more plain, than that the titles of these books 
were Amusements [innocent deceptions], in order to put the 
books into the hands of those people whom the Jacobites had 
deluded, and to bring the books to be read by them. 

Previous to what I shall further say of these books, I must 
observe that all these books met with so general a reception 
and approbation among those who were most sincere for the 
Protestant Succession, that they sent them all over the 
Kingdom, and recommended them to the people's reading, 
as excellent and useful pieces; insomuch that about seven 
editions of them were printed, and they were reprinted in 
other places : and I do protest, had His present Majesty, then 
Elector of Hanover, given me /"i,ooo [^2,500 now\, to have 
written for the Interest of his Succession, and to expose and 
render the Interest of the Pretender odious and ridiculous, I 
could have done nothing more effectual to those purposes 
than those books were. 

And that I may make my worst enemies (to whom this is 
a fair Appeal) judges of this, I must take leave, by-and-by, to 
repeat some of the expressions in those books, which wei e 
direct, and need no explication ; and which, I think, no man 
that was in the Interest of the Pretender, nay, which no 
man but one who was entirely in the Interest of the Hanover 
Succession could write. 

Nothing can be severer in the fate of a man, than to act so 
between two Parties, that Both Sides should be provoked 
against him ! 

It is certain, the Jacobites cursed those tracts and the 
author; and when they came to read them, being deluded 
by the titles according to the dcsip^n, they threw them by, with 
the greatest indignation imaginable ! Had the Pretender 
ever come to the throne, I could have cxpecLcd nothing but 



486 Charged WITH writing for the Pretender, [j|^,,^f|°^; 

Death ! and all the ignominy and reproach that the most in- 
veterate enemy of his person and claim could be supposed 
to suffer ! 

On the other hand, I leave it to any considering^ man to 
judge what a surprise it m.ust be to me, to meet with all the 
public clamour that Informers could invent, as " being guilty 
of writing against the Hanover Succession," and " as having 
^\■ritten several pamphlets in favour of the Pretender." 

No man, in this nation, ever had a more riveted aversion 
to the Pretender, and to all the family, he pretended to come 
of, than I ! A man that had been in arms, under the Duke 
of Monmouth, against the cruelty and arbitrary government 
of his pretended father ! that, for twenty years, had, to my 
utmost, opposed him [King J AMES], and his party, after his 
abdication ! that had served King William, to his satis- 
faction ! and the Friends of the Revolution, after his death, 
at all hazards and upon all occasions ! that had suffered and 
been ruined under the Administration of the Highflyers and 
Jacobites, of whom some are, at this day, counterfeit ]Vhigs ! 
It could not be ! The nature of the thing could, by no means, 
allow it ! It must be monstrous ! And that the wonder may 
cease, I shall take leave to quote some of the expressions out 
of these books ; of which, the worst enemy I have in the world, 
is left to judge whether they are in favour of the Pretender or 
not ? But of this, in its place. 

For these books, I was prosecuted, taken into custody, 
and obliged to give ^^Soo bail. 

I do not, in the least, object here against, or design to 
reflect upon the proceedings of the Judges which were sub- 
sequent to this. I acknowledged then, and now acknowledge 
again, that, upon the Information given, there was a sufficient 
ground for all they did ; and my unhapp}- entering upon my 
own Vindication in print, while the case was before their 
Lordships in a judicial way, was an error which I neither 
imderstood, and which I did not foresee. And therefore, 
although I had great reason to reflect upon the Informers, 
yet I was wrong in making that Defence in the manner and 
time I then made it ; and which, when I found, I made no 
scruple afterwards to petition the Judges, and to acknowledge 
that they had just ground to resent it : upon which Petition 
and Acknowledgement, their Lordships were pleased, with 



^im-] Pl^OSECUTED BY SOME WHO KNOW HIS INNOCENCE. 487 

particular marks of goodness, to release me ; and not take 
the advantage of an error of ignorance, as if it had been con- 
sidered and premeditated. 

But against the Informers ; I think I have great reason to 
complain : and against the injustice of those writers, who, 
in many pamphlets, charged me with writing for the Pre- 
tender ; and the Government, with pardoning an author who 
wrote for the Pretender. And indeed, the justice of those 
men can be in nothing more clearly stated, than in this case 
of mine ; where the charge, in their printed papers and public 
discourse, was brought, not that themselves believed me guilty 
of the crime, but because it was necessary to blacken the 
Man ! that a general reproach might serve for an answer to 
whatever he should say, that was not for their turn. So that 
it was the Person, not the Crime, they fell upon ! and they 
may justly be said to persecute /or tJic sake of persecution I as 
will thus appear. 

This matter making some noise, people began to inquire 
into it; and to ask "What De Foe was prosecuted for? 
seeing the books were manifestly written against the Pretender, 
and for the Interest of the House of Hanover!" And my 
friends expostulated freely with some of the men who ap- 
peared in it ; who answered, with more truth than honesty, 
that "they knew this book [Reasons as^ainst, &c.] had nothing 
in it, and that it was meant another way : but that De Foe 
had disobliged them in other things ; and they were resolved 
to take the advantage they had, both to punish and expose 
him ! " 

They were no inconsiderable people who said this ; and 
had the case come to a trial, I had provided good evidence 
to prove the words. This is the Christianity and Justice by 
which I have been treated 1 and this Injustice is ihe thing 
that I complain of! 

Now as this was a plot of a few men to see if they could 
brand me in the world for a Jacobite, and persuade rash and 
ignorant people that I was turned about for the Pretender : 
I think they might as easily have proved me to be a 
Mahometan ! Therefore, I say this obliges me to state that 
matter as it really stands, that impartial men may judge 
whether those books were written fo/ or againsl the Pretender. 



488 Dkfok appeals to Queen Anne for a pardon. ["^[7°^: 

And this cannot be better done than by the account of what 
lollowed after the first Information ; which, in few words, 
is thus : 

Upon the several days appointed, I appeared at the Queen's 
Bench bar, to discharge my bail ; and, at last, had an In- 
dictment for high crimes and misdemeanours exhibited against 
me [June, 1713] by Her Majesty's Attorney-General [Sir 
Edward Northey] ; which, as I was informed, contained 
200 sheets of paper. What the substance of the indictment 
was, I shall not mention here ! neither could I enter upon it, 
having never seen iJic particidavs. 

But I was told that " I should be brought to trial, the very 
next Term." 

I was not ignorant that, in such cases, it is easy to make 
any book, a libel ; and that the Jury must have found the 
matter of fact in the indictment, viz., that I had written such 
books : and then what might have followed, I knew not. 

Wherefore I thought it was my only way to cast myself on 
the clemency of Her Majesty, whose goodness I had had so 
much experience of, many ways ; representing in my Petition, 
that "7 was far from the least intention to favour the Interest of 
the P'xetender ; but that the books were all written with a sincere 
design to promote the Interest of the House of Hanover ; and 
humbly laid before Her Majesty {as I do now before the rest of the 
ic'orld) the books themselves, to plead in my behalf: " representing 
further that "/ was maliciously injormed against, by those who 
were willing to put a construction upon the expressions different 
from my true meaning ; and therefore flying to Her Majesty's 
goodness and clemency, I entreated her gracious Pardon I " 

It was not only the native disposition of Her Majesty to 
acts of clemency and goodness that obtained me this Pardon ; 
but, as I was informed, Her Majesty was pleased to express 
in the Council : " She saw nothing but private pique in the 
lirst prosecution." And therefore I think I cannot give a 
better and clearer vindication of myself than what is con- 
tained in the Preamble to the Pardon which Her Majesty 
was pleased to grant me : and I must be allowed to say to 
those who are still willing to object, that I think what satis- 
iied Her Majesty might be sufficient to satisfy them. And 
1 can answer them, that this Pardon was not granted without 
Her Majesty's being specially and particularly acquainted 




w.^itM-] The Queen's /'^A'ZJO-v, 20TH Nov. 1713. 4S9 

with the things alleged in the Petition ; the books being 
looked into, to find the expressions quoted in the Petition. 

The Preamble to the Patent for a Pardon, as far as relates 
to the matters of fact, runs thus : 

Hereas, in the Term of Holy Trinity [June, 1713] last 
past, Our Attorney-General did exhibit an Informa- 
tion in Our Court of Queen's Bench at Westminster, 
against DANIEL De Foe, late of London, Gentleman, 

for writing, printing, and publishing, and causing to be written, 

printed and published, three Libels : 

The one intituled, Reasons against the Succession of the 
House of Hanover; with an Inquiry how far the Abdica- 
tion of King James, supposing it to be legal, ought to 
affect the Person of the Pretender. 

One other intituled, And what if the Pretender should come ? 
Or some considerations of the Advantages and real Con- 
sequences of the Pretender's possessing the Crown of 
Great Britain. 

And one other intituled, An Answer to a Question that nobody 
thinks of, viz., What if the Queen should die ? [44 pp. 
Published in April, 1713.] 

And whereas the said Daniel De Foe hath, by his humble 
Petition, represented to us, that he, with a sincere design to pro- 
pagate the Interest of the Hanover Succession, and to animate 
the people against the designs of the Pretender whom he always 
looked upon as an enemy to our sacred Person and Government, 
did publish the said pamphlets. In all which books, although the 
titles seemed to look as if written in favour of the Pretender, and 
several expressions {as in all ironical writing it must be) may be 
wrested against the true design of the whole, and turned to a 
meaning quite different from the intention of the author : yet 
the Petitioner humbly assures us, in the solemnest manner, that his 
true and only design in all the said books, was, by an ironical 
discourse of recommending the Pretender, in the strongest and 
most forcible manner, to expose his designs and the ruinous conse- 
quences of his succeeding therein : 

Which, as the Petitioner humbly represents, will appear to Our 
Satisfaction, by the books themselves, where the following ex- 
pressions are very plain, viz., that the Pretender is recommended, 



490 The Queen's Pardon, 20T11 Nov. 1713. [nPo'v.",'7I4: 

As. a person proper to amass the English Liberties into 

his own Sovereignty, to supply them with the Privileges 

of wearing Wooden Shoes ; casiiif^ them of the trouble of 

choosing Parliaments, and the Nobiliiy and Gentry of the 

hazard and expense of uinter jonnieys, by governing them, 

in that more righteous Method of his Absolute Will; 

and enforcing the Laws by a glorious Standing Army ; 

paying all the nation's debts at once by stopping the Funds, 

and shutting up the Exchequer ; easing and quieting their 

differences in religion, by bringing them to the Union of 

Popery or leaving them at liberty to have no religion 

at all. 

That these were some of the very expressions in the said books 

which the Petitioner sincerely designed to expose and oppose, as 

far as in him lies, the Interest of the Pretender, and with no other 

intention. 

Nevertheless the Petitioner, to his great surprise, has been mis- 
represented ; and his said books ■misconstrued, as if written in 
favour of the Pretender, and the Petitioner is now under prosecu- 
tion for the same; which prosecution, if further carried on, will 
be the utter ruin of tJie Petitioner and his family. Wherefore 
the Petitioner, humbly assuring tis of the innocence of his design 
as aforesaid, flies to Our clemency, and most humbly prays Our 
most gracious and free pardon ; We, taking the premisses, and the 
circumstances aforesaid, into Our royal consideration, are gra- 
ciously pleased [to extend our royal mercy to the Petitioner. 

Our Will and Pleasure therefore is, that you prepare a bill for 
Our royal signature, to pass Our great seal, containing Our 
gracious and free Pardon unto him, the said Daniel De Foe, 
of the offences aforementioned, and of all indictments, convictions, 
pains, penalties, and forfeitures incurred thereby : and you are to 
insert therein, all such apt and beneficial clauses as you shall 
judge requisite to make this our intended Pardon more full, valid, 
and effectual ; and for so doing, this shall be your Warrant. 

Given at Our Castle at Windsor, the 20th day of November, 
1713, in the twelfth year of Our reign. 

By Her Majesty's Command, 

B o L I N a B R o K e.] 

Let anv indiffcM-cnt man judge whether I was not treated 
with peculiar malice in this matter ; who was, notwithstand- 



N^V.^itn-] '^^^^ FIRST EVER PARDONED OX THIS SORT. 49 1 

ing this, reproached in the daily public prints, with having 
written treasonable books in behalf of the Pretender : nay, 
and in some of those books as before, the Queen herself was 
reproached ! with " having granted her pardon to an author 
who wrote for the Pretender." 

I think I might with much more justice say, I was the 
first man that ever was obliged to seek a Pardon for writing 
for the Hanover Succession ; and the first man that these 
people ever sought to ruin for writing against the Pretender: 
for if ever a book was sincerely designed to further and pro- 
pagate the affection and zeal of the nation against the 
Pretender; nay, and was made useof (and that with successtoo) 
for that purpose, these books were so. And I ask no more 
favour of the World to determine the opinion of honest men 
for or against me, than what is drawn constructively from 
these books. Let one word, either written or spoken by me, 
either published or not published, be produced, that was in 
the least disrespectful to the Protestant Succession, or to 
any branch of the Family of Hanover, or that can be judged 
to be favourable to the Interest or Person of the Pretender ; 
and I will be willing to wave Her Majesty's Pardon, and 
render myself to public justice, to be punished for it, as I 
should well deserve. 

I freely and openly challenge the worst of my enemies to 
charge me with any discourse, conversation, or behaviour in 
my whole life, which had the least word in it injurious to 
the Protestant Succession, unbecoming or disrespectful to 
any of the persons of the Royal Family of Hanover, or the 
least favourable word of the person, the designs, or friends 
of the Pretender. If they can do it, let them stand forth 
and speak ! No doubt but they may be heard ! And I, for 
my part, will relinquish all pleas. Pardons, and defences, and 
cast myself into the hands of Justice. 

Nay, to go further : I defy them to prove that I ever kept 

company, or had any society, friendship, or conversation 

with any Jacobite ! so averse have I been to the Interest, 

and to the people, that I have studiously avoided their 

' company upon all occasions. 

As nothing in the world has been more my aversion than 
the society of Jacobites, so nothing can be a greater mis- 
fortune to me than to be accused, and publicly reproached 



492 Defoe ever studiously avoided Jacobites, [n^v?^'!"^: 

with what is, of all thin£;^s in the world, most abhorred by 
me : and that which had made it the more afflicting is, that 
this charge arises from those very things which I did, with 
the sincerest design, to manifest the contrary. 

But such is my present fate, that I am to submit to it: 
which I do with meekness and calmness, as to a judgement 
from heaven ; and am practising that duty, which I have 
studied long ago, of "forgiving my enemies," and "praying 
for them that despitefully use me." 

Having given this brief history of the Pardon &c., I hope 
the impartial part of the world will grant me, that, being 
thus graciously delivered, a second time, from the cruelty of 
my implacable enemies, and the ruin of a cruel and unjust 
prosecution ; and that, by the mere clemency and gcolness 
of the Queen, my Obligation to Her Majesty's goodnesi was 
far from being made less than it was before. 



I have now run through the history of my Obligation to 
Her Majesty, and to the Person of my I]enefactor aforesaid. 
I shall state everything that followed this, with all the 
clearness I can ; and leave myself liable to as little cavil as 
I may. For I see myself assaulted by a sort of people who 
will do me no justice. I hear a great noise made of " punish- 
ing those that are guilty ! " ; but, as I said before, not one 
word of " clearing those that are innocent ! " And I must 
say, in this part, they treat me not only as if I were no 
Christian, but as if they themselves were not Christians. 
They will neither prove the charge, nor hear the dclence; 
which is the unjustest thing in the world. 

I foresee what will be alleged to the clause of my Obli- 
gation &c., to Great Persons : and I resolve to give my 
adversaries all the advantage they can desire, by acknow- 
ledging beforehand that " no Obligation to the Queen or to 
any Benefactor can justify any man's acting against the 
Interest of his country ! against his principles ! his conscience! 
and his former profession !" 

I think this will anticipate all that can be said upon that 
head : and it will then remain to state the fact, as I am, or 
am not chargeable with it ; which I shall do as clearly as 
possible in few words. 



iJ^-^^f^^°^;]WiiY Din NOT Defoe attack OxFORr3'.s acts? 493 

It is none of my work to enter into the conduct of the 
Queen, or of the Ministry, in this case. The question is not 
What they have done, but What I have done ? 

And though I am very far from thinking of them [i.e., 
Lord Oxford's Ministry] as some other people think : yet, 
for the sake of the present argument, I am to give them all 
up ! and suppose (though not granting) that all which is 
suggested of them by the worst temper, the most censorious 
writer, the most scandalous pamphlet or lampoon, should be 
true ; and I will go through some of the particulars, as I 
meet with them in public. 

I. That ihcy made a scandalous Peace, imjiistly broke the 
Alliance, betrayed the Confederates, and sold iis all to the French. 
GOD forbid it should be all truth, in the manner that we 
see it in print : but that, I say, is none of my business 1 

But what hand had I in all this ? I never wrote one word 
for the Peace before it was made ; or to justify it after it 
was made. Let them produce it, if they can ! 

Nay, in a Review upon that subject, while it was making, I 
printed it, in plainer words than other men durst speak at that 
time, that " I did not like the Peace ; nor did I like any Peace 
that was a making since that the Partition ; and that the 
Protestant Interest was not taken care of, either in that, or 
the Treaty of Gertruydenburg before it." 

It is true, that I did say, " That since the Peace was made, 
and we could not help it, that it was our business and our 
duty to make the best of it, to make the utmost advantage of 
it by commerce, navigation, and all kinds of improvement 
that we could." And this I say still ! and I must think it is 
more our duty to do so, than the exclamations against the 
thing itself; which it is not in our power to retrieve. That 
is all, the worst enemy I have can charge me with. 

After the Peace was made, and the Dutch and the 
Emperor stood out ; I gave my opinion of what I foresaw 
would necessarily be the consequence of that difference, viz., 
that it would inevitably involve these Nations in a war with 
one or other of them. Any one who was master of common 
sense in the public affairs might see, that the standing out 
of the Dutch could have no other event. 

For if the Confederates had conquered the French, they 



494 England oeliged to bring in the Allies, [n^;?!^^' 

would certainly have fallen upon us, by way of resentment: 
and there was no doubt but the same counsels that led us to 
make a Peace, would oblige us to maintain it, by preventing 
too great impressions upon [i.e., the annihilation of] the French. 

On the other hand, I alleged that should the French 
prevail against the Dutch, unless he stopped at such limita- 
tions of conquest as the Treaty obliged him to do, we must 
have been under the same necessity to renew the war against 
France. And for this reason, seeing we had made a Peace, 
we were obliged to bring the rest of the Confederates into it ! 
and to bring the French to give them all such terms as they 
ought to be satisfied with. 

This way of arguing was either so little understood, or so 
much maligned that I suffered innumerable reproaches in 
print, for having written for a war with the Dutch : which 
was neither in the expression, nor ever in my imagination. 
But I pass by these injuries as small and trifling, com- 
pared to others I suffered under. 

However, one thing I must say of the Peace. Let it be 
good or ill in itself, I cannot but think we have all reason 
to rejoice in behalf of His present Majesty, that, at his 
accession to the Crown, he found the nation in peace ; and 
had the hands of the King of France tied by a Peace, so as 
not to be able, without the most infamous breach of Articles, 
to offer the least disturbance to his taking a quiet and 
leisurely possession, or so much as to countenance those that 
would. Not but that I believe, if the war had been at the 
height, we should have been able to have preserved the 
Crown for His present Majesty, its only rightful Lord : but 
I will not say, it should have been so easy, so bloodless, so 
undisputed as now : and all the difference must be acknow- 
ledged [attribtitcd] to the Peace. And this is all the good I 
ever yet said of the Peace. 



I come next to the general clamour of the Ministry 
being fo]' the Pretender. I must speak my sentiments solemnly 
and plainly, as I always did in that matter, viz., that, " If it 
were so, 1 did not see it ! Nor did I ever see reason to 
believe it I " This I am sure of, that if it were so, I never 



^j'J°^;]WiiiGS DRAVE Oxford towards the Jacobites. 495 

took one step in that kind of service, nor did I ever heai* 
one word spoken by any one of the Ministry that I had the 
honour to know or converse with, that favoured the Pre- 
tender: but I have had the honour to hear them all protest 
that there was no design to oppose the Succession of Hanover 
in the least. 

It maybe objectedto me, that "they might be in the Interest 
of the Pretender, for all that ! " 

It is true, they might ; but that is nothing to me ! I am 
not vindicating their conduct, but my own ! As I never was 
employed in anything that way, so I do still protest I do not 
believe it was ever in their design ; and I have many reasons 
to confirm my thoughts in that case, which are not material 
to the present case. 

But be that as it will, it is enough to me, that I acted 
nothing in such Interest ; neither did I ever sin against the 
Protestant Succession of Hanover in thought, word, or deed: 
and if the Ministry did, I did not see it, or so much as suspect 
them of it ! 

It was a disaster to the Ministry, to be driven to the neces- 
sity of taking that Set of Men by the hand ; who, nobody can 
deny, were in that Interest. But as the former Ministry 
answered, when they were charged with a design to overthrow 
the Church, because they favoured, joined with, and were 
united to the Dissenters; I say, they answered that "they 
made use of the Dissenters, but granted them nothing " {which, 
by the way, was too true / ) : so these gentlemen answer, that 
" it is true, they made use of the Jacobites ; but did nothing 
for them ! " 

But this, by-the-by. Necessity is pleaded by both Parties 
for doing things, which neither side can justify. I wish both 
sides would for ever avoid the necessity of doing evil : for 
certainly it is the worst plea in the world ! and generally made 
use of, for the worst things. 

I have often lamented the disaster which I saw employing 
Jacobites was to the late Ministry ; and certainly it gave the 
greatest handle to the enemies of the Ministry to fix that 
universal reproach upon them, of being in the Interest of the 
Pretender : but there was no medium. The Whigs refused 
to shew them a safe retreat, or to give them the least oppor- 
tunity to take any other measures, but at the risk of their 



49^ Queen Anne favours House of Hanover. [N^v°if°4: 

own destruction: and they ventured upon that course, in 
hopes of being able to stand alone at last, without help of 
either the one or the other; in which, no doubt, they were 
mistaken. 

However, in this part, as I was always assured, and have 
good reason still to believe, that Her Alajesty was steady in 
the Interest of the House of Hanover; and that nothing 
was ever offered me or required of me to the prejudice of that 
Interest : on what ground can I be reproached with the secret 
reserved design of any ; if they have such designs (as I still 
verily believe they had not) ? 

I see there are some men who would fain persuade the 
the World, that every man that was in the Interest of the late 
Ministry, or employed by the late Government, or that served 
the late Queen, was for the Pretender! 

GOD forbid this should be true ! and I think there needs 
very little to be said in answer to it. I can answer for my- 
self, that it is notoriously false ! and I think the easy and 
uninterrupted accession of His Majesty to the Crown con- 
tradicts it. 

I see no end which such a suggestion aims at, but to leave 
an odium on all that had any duty or regard to Her late 
Majesty. 

A subject is not always master of his Sovereign's measures, 
nor always to examine what Persons or Parties the Prince he 
serves, emploj-s ; so be it that they break not in upon the 
Constitution, that they govern according to Law, and that he 
is employed in no illegal act, or has nothing desired of him 
inconsistent with the Laws and Liberties of his country. If 
this be not right, then a servant of the King is in a worse case 
than a servant to any private person. 

In all these things, I have not erred : neither have I acted 
or done anything in the whole course of my life, either in the 
service of Her Majesty, or of her Ministry, that an}^ one can 
say has the least deviation from the strictest regard to the 
Protestant Succession, and to the Laws and Liberties of my 
country. 

I never saw an arbitrary action offered at, a law dispensed 
with. Justice dcn}ed, or Oppression set up, either by Queen 
or Ministry, in any branch of the Administration wherein 
I had the least concern. 



N^v^itM.'] My Obligation IS MY plea for my Silence. 497 

If I have sinned against the Whigs, it has all been negatively, 
viz., that I have not joined in the loud exclamations against 
the Queen, and against the Ministry, and against their 
measures. 

And if this be my crime, my plea is twofold. 

1. I did not really see cause for their carrying their com- 
plaints to that violent degree. 

2. What I did see, what (as before) I lamented and was 
sorry for, and could not join with or approve; z.^ joining 
with Jacobites, the Peace, &c. : my Obligation is my 
plea for my silence. 

I have all the good thoughts of the person, and good wishes 
for the prosperity of my Benefactor [Harley, Lord Oxford], 
that charity, that gratitude can inspire me with. I ever 
believed him to have the true Interest of the Protestant 
Religion, and of his country in his view : if it should be 
otherwise, I should be very sorry ! 

And I must repeat it again that he always left me so 
entirely to my own judgement in everything I did, that 
he never prescribed to me what I should write or should not 
write, in my life : neither did he ever concern himself to 
dictate to, or restrain me in any kind; nor did he see any one 
tract that I ever wrote before it was printed. So that all the 
notion of my writing by his direction is as much a slander 
upon him, as it is possible anything of that kind can be. And 
if I have written anything which is offensive, unjust, or un- 
true, I must do that justice to declare, he has had no hand in 
it : the crime is my own. 

As the reproach of his directing me to write, is a slander 
upon the Person I am speaking of; so that of my receiving 
pensions and payments from him, for writing, is a slander 
upon me : and I speak it with the greatest sincerity, serious- 
ness, and solemnity that it is possible for a Christian man 
to speak, that, except the appointment I mentioned before, 
which Her Majesty was pleased to make me formerly, and 
which I received during the time of my Lord Godolphin's 
Ministry, I have not received of the late Lord Treasurer, or of 
any one else by his order, knowledge, or direction, one farthing, or 
the value of a farthing, during his whole Adniinistration : nor 

Ea'G.Car.WU. 33 



49S 1 1 IS SERVICES "should xever ce forgotten!" [J^';l"l\ 

has all the Interest I have been supposed to have in his 
Lordship been able to procure me the arrears due to me [for 
the dangerous service abroad, see p. 481J in the time of the other 
Ministry, So help me God ! 

I am under no necessity of making this declaration. The 
services I did, and for which Her Majesty was pleased to 
make me a small allowance, are known to the greatest men 
in the present Administration ; and some of them were then 
of the opinion, and I hope are so still, that I was not un- 
worthy of Her Majesty's favour. The effect of those services, 
however small, are enjoyed by those Great Persons and by 
the whole nation, to this day : and I had the honour once, 
to be told that " They should never be forgotten ! " [See 
pp. 477,481.] 

It is a misfortune that no man can avoid, to forfeit for his 
deference to the person and services of his Queen, to whom 
he was inexpressibly obliged. And if I am fallen under the 
displeasure of the present Government, for anything I ever 
did in obedience to Her Majesty in the past ; I may say it 
is my disaster, but I can never say it is my fault. 

This brings me again to that other Oppression which, as 
I said [p. 483I, I suffer under ; and which I think is of a kind 
that no man ever suffered under so much as myself: and 
this is, to have every libel, every pamphlet, be it ever so 
foolish, so malicious, so unmannerly, or so dangerous, laid 
at my door, and be called publicly by my name. 

It has been in vain for me to struggle with this injury. 
It has been in vain for me to protest, to declare solemnly. 
Nay, if I would have sworn, that I had no hand in such 
a book or paper ! never saw it ! never read it ! and the like ; 
it was the same thing. 

My name has been hackneyed about the street by the 
hawkers, and about the coffee-houses by the politicians ; at 
such a rate, as no patience would bear ! 

One man will swear to the style ! another to this or that 
expression ! another to the way of printing ! and all so positive^ 
that it is to no purpose to oppose it. 

I published once, to stop this way of using me, that I would 
print nothing but what I set my name to : and I held to it, 
for a year or two : but it was all one, I had the same treatment ! 



iJJv^f^^'^^:] Defoe's name put to any tampttlet. 409 

I now have resolved, for some time, to write nothing at all : 
and yet I find it the same thing ! 

Two books lately published [the first two of the three Parts 
of the Secret History of the White Staff, published in October 
1714I being called mine ; for no other reason that I know of, 
than that, at the request of the printer, I revised two sheets 
[64 pp.] of them at the press ; and that they seemed to be 
written in favour of a certain Person [Harley, Lord 
Oxford] : which Person also, as I have been assured, had 
no hand in them, or any knowledge of them till they were 
published in print. 

This is a Flail which I have no fence against ! but to 
complain of the injustice of it : and that is but the shortest 
way to be treated with more injustice. 

There is a mighty charge against me for being Author and 
Publisher of a Paper called the Mercator [Or Commerce revived 
from 26th May, 1713, to 20th July, 1714]. I will state the 
fact first, and then speak to the subject. 

It is true that, being desired to give my opinion in the 
affair of the commerce of France, I did (as I often had done 
in print, many years before) declare that "It was my opinion 
we ought to have Open [Free] Trade with France; because I 
did believe we might have the advantage by such a trade " : 
and of this opinion, I am still. 

What Part I had in the Mercator is well known : and, 
would men answer with argument and not with personal 
abuses, I would at any time, defend every part of the Mer- 
cator which was of my doing. But to say the Mercator was 
mine, is false ! I neither was the Author [Editor] of it, had 
the property [proprietorship] of it, the printing of it, or the 
profit by it. I have never had any payment or reward for 
writing any part of it ; nor had I the power to put what 
I would into it. 

Yet the whole clamour fell upon me, because they knew 
not who else to load with it. And when they came to an- 
swer ; the method was, instead of argument, to threaten, 
and reflect upon me! reproach me with private circumstances 
and misfortunes! and give language which no Christian 
ought to give ! and which no Gentleman ought to take ! 

I thought any Englishman had the liberty to speak his 



500 Defoe's share in the AIercator. [.^"1^^: 

opinion in such things: for this had nothing to do with the 
PubHc [State Affairs\. The press was open to me, as well 
as to others ; and how or when I lost my English liberty of 
speaking my mind, I know not ! neither how my speaking 
my opinion without fee or reward, could authorize them to 
call me " villain ! " " rascal ! " " traitor ! " and such oppro- 
brious names. 

It was ever my opinion, as it is so still, that were our wool 
kept from France, and our manufactures spread in France 
upon reasonable duties; all the improvement which the 
French have made in woollen manufactures would decay, 
and in the end be little worth : and consequently the hurt 
they could do us by them, would be of little moment. 

It was my opinion, and is so still, that the gth Article of 
the Treaty of Couiuicrcc was calculated for the advantage of 
our trade (let who will, make it, that is nothing to me !) My 
reasons are, because it tied up the French to open the door 
to our manufactures, at a certain duty of importation, there ; 
and left the Parliament of Britain at liberty, to shut theirs 
out, by as high duties as they pleased, here : there being no 
limitation upon us, as to duties on French goods, but that 
otlicr nations sJioiild pay the same. 

While the French were thus bound, and the British free ; 
I always thought we must be in a condition to trade to 
advantage, or it must be our own fault. 

That was my opinion, and is so still. And I would ven- 
ture to maintain it against any man upon a public stage, 
before a jury of fifty merchants ; and venture my life upon 
the cause, if I were assured of fair play in the dispute. 

l>ut that it was my opinion that we might carry on a trade 
with France to our great advantage, and that we ought, for 
that reason, to trade with them, appears in the 3rd, 4th, 5th, 
and 6th Volumes of the Review [issued between Jan. i, 1706, 
and May 23, 1710; the earlier ones], above nine [or rather seven] 
3'ears before the M creator [which commenced on May 26, 1713] 
was thought of. It was not thought criminal to say so then ! 
How it comes to be "villainous" to say so now, GOD knows! 
I can give no account of it. I am still of the same opinion, 
and shall never be brought to say otherwise, unless I see the 
state of trade so altered as to alter my opinion ; and if ever I 
do, I will be able to give good reasons for it. 



N^v.^i^mG ^^"^ TREATMENT FOR HIS TRADE VIEWS. 50I 

The answer to these things, whether mine or not, was all 
pointed at me : and the arguments were generally in the 
terms of "Villain!" "Rascal!" "Miscreant!" "Liar!" 
" Bankrupt ! " " Fellow ! " " Hireling ! " " Turncoat ! " &c. 
What the arguments were bettered by these methods, that I 
leave to others to judge of I 

Also most of those things in the Mcrcator, for which I had 
such usage, were such as I was not the author of ! 



I do grant, had all the books which have been called by 
my name, been written by me, I must, of necessity, have 
exasperated every side ; and, perhaps, have deserved it. But 
I have the greatest injustice imaginable in this treatment, as 
I have [also] in the perverting [ofj the design, of what really 
I have written. 



To sum up therefore my Complaint in few words : 
I was from my first entering into the knowledge of Public 
Matters, and have ever been to this day, a sincere lover of 
the Constitution of my country, zealous for Liberty and the 
Protestant Interest; but a constant follower of Moderate 
Principles, a vigorous opposer of Hot Measures of all Parties. 
I never once changed my opinion, my principles, or my 
Party : and let what will be said of changing sides, this I 
maintain, that I never once deviated from the Revolution 
Principles, nor from the doctrine of Liberty and Property on 
which they were founded. 

I own I could never be convinced of the great danger of 
the Pretender, in the time of the late Ministry ; nor can I be 
now convinced of the great danger of the Church under this 
Ministry. I believe the cries of the one were politically 
made use of, then, to serve other designs; and I plainly see 
the like use, made of the other now. I spoke my mind 
freely then, and I have done the like new. in a small tract 
to that purpose, not yet made public, and which if I live to 
publish, I will publicly own ; as I purpose to do everything 
I write, that my friends may know when I am abused, and 
they imposed on. 



502 An orrosER of Hot Measures of all Parties. ["j'^J"^; 

It has been the disaster of all Parties in this nation to be 
Very Hot in their turn ; and as often as they have been so, 
I have differed with them all ! and ever must and shall do so ! 
I will repeat some of the occasions on the Whigs' side ; 
because from that quarter, the accusation of my Turning 
About comes. 

The first time I had the misfortune to differ with my 
friends, was about the year 1683, when the Turks were 
besieging Vienna ; and the Whigs in England, generally 
speaking, were for the Turks taking it : which I (having 
read the history of the cruelty and perfidious dealings of 
the Turks in their wars, and how they had rooted out 
the name of the Christian religion in above threescore 
and ten kingdoms) could by no means agree with ; and 
though then but a young man, and a 3'ounger author, I 
opposed it and wrote against it, which was taken very 
unkindly indeed. 
The next time I differed with my friends, was when King 
James was wheedling the Dissenters, to take off the 
Penal Laws and the Test : which I could by no means 
come into. 
And as, in the first, I used to say, I had rather the Popish 
House of Austria should ruin the Protestants in Hungary, 
than the infidel House of Ottoman should ruin both Protes- 
tant and Papist, by overrunning Germany ; so, in the other, 
I told the Dissenters I had rather the Church of England 
should pull our clothes off", by fines and forfeitures ; than the 
Papists should fall both upon the Church and the Dissenters, 
and pull our skins off by fire and faggot ! 

The next difference I had with good men was about the 
scandalous practice of Occasional Conformity : in which 
I had the misfortune to make many honest men angry ; 
rather because I had the better of the argument, than 
because they disliked what I said. 
And now I have lived to see the Dissenters themselves 
very quiet, if not very well pleased with an Act of Parlia- 
ment to prevent it. Their friends indeed laid it on. They 
would be friends indeed, if they would talk of taking it 
off again. 

Again, I had a breach with honest men for their mal- 
treating King William. 



jP;,^fJ°^:] When and how Defoe left the Whigs. 503 

Of which, I say nothing: because I think they are now 
opening their eyes, and making what amends they can to his 
memory. 

The fifth difference I had with them, was about the Treaty 

of Partition, in which many honest men were mistaken ; 

and in which, I told them plainly then, that "they 

would, at last, end the war upon worse terms." 

And so it is my opinion they would have done, though the 

Treaty of Gertruydenburg had taken place. 

The sixth time I differed with them was when the Old 

Whigs fell on the Modern Whigs ; and when the Duke 

of Marlborough and my Lord Godolphin were used 

by the Observator in a manner worse, I confess, for the 

time it lasted, than ever they were used since : nay, 

though it were by Abel and the Examiner ! But the 

success failed. In this dispute, my Lord Godolphin 

did me the honour to tell me, " I had served him, and 

His Grace also, both faithfully and successfully." 

But his Lordship is dead [in 1712], and I have now no 

testimony of it but what is to be found in the Observator, 

where I am plentifully abused for being an enemy to my 

country, by acting in the Interest of my Lord Gouolphlv 

and the Duke of Marlborough. What weathercock can 

turn with such tempers as these ! 

I am now in the seventh breach with them, and my crime 
now is, that I will not believe and say the same things 
of the Queen and the late Treasurer [Lord Oxford], 
which I could not believe before, of my Lord Godolphin 
and the Duke of Marlborough ; and which, in truth, 
I cannot believe, and therefore could not say it of either 
of them : and which, if I had believed, yet I ought not 
to have been the man that should have said it; for the 
reasons aforesaid [pp. 474, 476J. 



In such turns of Tempers and Times, a man must be 
tenfold a Vicar of Bray, or it is impossible but he must, one 
time or out, be out with everybody. 

This is my present condition; and for this, I am reviled 
with having abandoned my principles, turned Jacobite, and 
and what not. GOD judge between me and these men ! 



504 Violent charges made without any proofs. [J^;^,'J°^: 

Would they come to any particulars with me, what real 
guilt I may have, I would freely acknowledge ! and if they 
would produce any evidence of the bribes, the pensions, and 
the rewards I have taken ; I would declare honestly, whether 
they were true or not. 

If they would give me a list of the books, which they 
charge me with ; and the reasons why they lay them at my 
door; I would acknowledge any mistake, own what I have 
done, and let them know what I have nut done ! 

But these men neither shew mercy, nor leave place for 
repentance ! in which they act not only unlike their Maker, 
but contrary to His express commands. 

It is true, good men have been used thus in former times : 
and all the comfort I have is, that these men have not 
the Last Judgement in their hands ! if they had, dreadful 
would be the case of those who oppose them. But that 
Day will shew many men, and things also, in a different 
state from what they may now appear in : some that now 
appear clear and fair, will then be seen to be black and foul ; 
and some that are now thought black and foul, will then be 
approved and accepted. And thither, I cheerfully appeal ; 
concluding this Part in the words of the prophet : " I heard 
the defaming of many ! Fear on every side. Report," say 
they, "and we will report it!" All my familiars watched 
for my halting, saying, " Peradventure, he will be enticed, 
and we shall prevail against him ; and we shall take our 
revenge on him" (Jeremiah xx. 10). 

Mr. [Matthew] Poole's Annotations [1683-5I, has the 
following remarks on these lines ; which I think are so much 
to that Part of my case which is to follow, that I could not 
omit them. His words are these : 

" 'Die propJicl," says he, " here rendereth a reason ichy lie 
tJiou^ht of giving over his Work as a prophet : his ears were 
continually filled with the obloquies and reproaches of such as 
reproached him; and besides, he was afraid on all hands, there 
were so many traps laid for him, so many devices devised a!::;ainst 
hint. They did not only take advantages against hi)n ; but sought 
advantages, and invited others to raise stories of him. Not only 
strangers : but those that he might have expected the greatest kind- 
ness from ; those that pretended most courteously : they watch," 
says he, ^'fur opportunities to do me )nischief, and lay in wait for 



w.^i"?"':] -Defoe's study of Poole's Anxotatioxs. ^o^ 

my halting; desiring nothing more than that I might be enticed 
to speak, or do something [in] which they might find matter of a 
colourable accusation, that so they might satisfy their malice upon 
me. This hath always been the genius of wicked men. Job and 
David both made complaints much like this." 

These are Mr. Poole's words. 

And this leads me to several particulars, in which my 
case may, without any arrogance, be likened to that of the 
sacred prophet; excepting only the vast disparity of the 
persons. 

No sooner was the Queen dead, and the King (as right 
required) proclaimed ; but the rage of men increased upon 
me to that degree, that the threats and insults I received, 
were such as I am not able to express ! If I offered to say a 
word in favour of the present Settlement it was called 
"fawning ! and turning round again !" On the other hand, 
though I have meddled, neither one way or other, nor 
written one book since the Queen's death ; yet a great many 
things are called by my name, and I bear, every day, all the 
reproaches whch all the Answerers of those books cast, as 
well upon the subject as the authors. 

I have not seen or spoken to my Lord of Oxford, since 
the King's landing [September i8, 1714I ; nor received the 
least message, order, or writing from his Lordship, or in any 
other way, corresponded with him : yet he bears the reproach 
of my writing in his defence; and I, the rage of men for 
doing it ! I cannot say it is no affliction to me, to be thus 
used ; though my being entirely clear of the facts is a true 
support to me. 

I am unconcerned at the rage and clamour of Party men : 
but I cannot be unconcerned to hear men, whom I think 
are good men and true Christians, prepossessed and mis- 
taken about me. However, I cannot doubt but, sometime 
or other, it will please GOD to open such men's eyes. A 
constant, steady adhering to personal Virtue and to public 
Peace, which (I thank GOD ! I can appeal to Him !) has 
always been my practice, will, at last, restore me to the 
opmion of sober and impartial men ; and that is all I desire. 
What it will do with those who are resolutely partial and 
unjust I cannot say ; neither is that much rny concern. But 
I cannot forbear giving one example of the hard treatment I 



5o6 Appeal interrupted by apoplexy. [^?;,^,J^^^: 

receive ; which has happened, even while I am writing this 
tract. 

I have six children. I have educated them as well as my 
circumstances will permit ; and so, as I hope, shall recom- 
mend them to better usai;e than their father meets with in the 
World. I am not indebted one shilling in the world, for any 
part of their education, or for anything else belonging to 
bringing them up. Yet the Author of the Flyi}!i( Post pub- 
lished lately that ** I never paid for the education of any 
of my children." 

If any man in Britain has a shilling to demand of me, for 
any part of their education, or anything belonging to them : 
let him come for it ! 

But these men care not what injurious things they write, 
nor what they say, whether truth or not ; if it may but 
raise a reproach on me, though it were to be my ruin. 

I may well appeal to the Honour and justice of my worst 
enemies in such cases as this. 

Conscia metis recti famas mcdidacia ridet. 



CONCLUSION 
BY THE PUBLISHER. 

HiLE this was at the Press, and the copy [manuscript] 
thus far finished ; the autlior was seized with a violent 
fit of apoplexy; whereby lie was disabled finisJii)ii^ 
ivliat he designed in his further defence. And con- 
tinning now, for above six weeks, in a weak and lan- 
guishing condition; neither able to go on, nor likely to recover (at 
least in any short time) : his friends thought it not fit to delay 
the publication of this any longer. If he recovers, he may be 
able to finish what he began. If not, it is the opinion of most 
that know him, that the treatment which he here complains of, and 
some others that he would have spoken of, have been the apparent 
cause of his disaster. 

FINIS. 




THE 



True Born Englishman. 



A 



SATYR. 



'* Siatuimtts pacem, et sectcritatem, et concordiavi judi- 
cium et justitiam inter Anglos et Normannos, Francos ^ 
et Britones Wallice et Cornubice, Pictos et Scotos Al- 
banice ; similiter inter Francos et InsiLlanos, provincias 
et patrias, qucc pertinent ad coronam nostrum ; et inter 
omnes nobis siLbjectos firmiter et inviolabiliter obscj'vari!' 
— Charta Regis Wiliielmi Conquisitoris de Pads 
Publica, cap. i. 



Printed In the Year M D C C I. 



5o8 



[ The Title fxic^e of flu's piece is apparently that of the first edition ; hut 
the text i^iven is tlie revised one of 1703. /;/ tJie Preface to whic/i^ Defoe 
thus writes. 

No Author is now capable of preservinf^ the purity of his style, no, 
nor the native product of his thou;^ht to Posterity : since, after the first 
edition of his Work has shewn itself, and perhaps sinks in a few hands, 
piratic Printers or hackney Abridgers fill the World ; the first, with 
spurious and incorrect copies, and the latter with imperfect and absurd 
representations, both in fact, style, and desi;^n. 

It is in vain to exclaim at the villainy of these practices, while no law 
is left to punish them. 

The Press groans under the unhappy burden, and yet is in a strait 
between two mischiefs : 

1. The tyranny of a Licenser. This, in all Ac^es, has been a method 
so ill, so arbitrary, and so subjected to bribery and Parties, that the 
(Government has thought fit, in justice to the Learned Part of the 
World, not to suffer it : since it has always been shutting up the 
Press to one side, and opening it to the other ; which, as Afi'airs are 
in Kngland often changing, has, in its turn, been oppressive to 
both. 

2. Tiie unbridled liberty of invading each other's property. And this 
is the evil the Press now cries for help in. 

To let it go on thus, will, in time, discourage all manner of Learning ; 
and authors will never set heartily about anything, when twenty years' 
study shall immediately be sacrificed to the profit of a piratical printer, 
who not only ruins the author, but abuses the Work. 

I shall trouble myself only to give some instances of this in my own 
case. 

As to the abusing the Copy, the T7-ue Born Englishman is a remark- 
able example. By which, the Author, though in it he eyed no profit, had 
he been to enjoy the profit of his own labour, had gained above a ^r,0 30 
[=^2,000 noio\ A book, that besides Nine Editions of the Author, iias 
been Twelve times printed by other hands : some of which, have been 
sold for a Penny ; others, for Twopence ; and others, for Sixpence. The 
Author's Edition being fairly printed, and on good paper, could not be 
sold under a Shilling. 80,000 of the small ones have been sold in 
the streets for Twopence, or at a Penny : and the Author, thus abused 
and discouraged, had no remedy but patience. 

And yet he had received no mortification at this, had his Copy {inamt- 
sei-ipt] been transmitted fairly to the World. But the monstrous abuses 
of that kind are hardly credible. Twenty, fifty, and in some places sixty 
lines were left out in a place : others were turned, spoiled, and so intoler- 
ablv mangled, that the parent of the brat could not know his own child. 

This is the thing complained of, and which I wait with patience, and 
not without hopes, to see rectified. 

^1 true Collection, iS-^t. Vol. IL Trefue.] 




509 



["Staiuiiiius paccm, ct scctirifafein, et concordiam jndicitim ct 
jnstitiam inter Anglos et Normannos, Francos, et Britoncs Wallice 
ct Cormibics, Pictos et Scotos Albanice; similiter inter Francos et 
Insidanos,provincias ctpatrias, qiice pertinent ad coronam nostnim; 
et inter omnes nobis snbjectos, firniitcr et inviolabilitcr obscrvari." 
— Charta Regis Wilhelmi Conquisitoris de Pads Publica, 
cap. I. 

Explanatory Preface, 

T IS not that I see any reason to alter my opinion 
in anything I have writTten], which occasions this 
Epistle; but I find it necessary, for the satisfaction 
of some Persons of Honour, as well as of Wit, to 
pass a short Explication upon it, and tell the 
World what I mean ; or rather, what I do not mean in some 
things, wherein I find I am liable to be misunderstood. 

I confess myself something surprised, to hear that I am 
taxed with bewraying my own nest, and abusing our nation 
by discovering the meanness of our Original, in order to make 
the English contemptible abroad and at home. In which, I 
think they are mistaken. For why should not our neighbours 
be as good as we to derive from ? 

And I must add, that had we been an unmixed nation, I 
am of opinion it had been to our disadvantage. For, to go 
no further, we have three nations about us, as clear from 
mixtures of blood as any in the world ; and I know not which 
of them I could wish ourselves to be like : I mean the Scots, 
the Welsh, and the Irish. And if I were to write a Reverse 
to the Satyr [satire], I would examine all the nations of 
Europe, and prove, That those nations which are most mixed 
are the best ; and have least of barbarism and brutality among 
them. And abundance of reasons might be given for it, too 
long to bring into a Preface. 

But I give this hint, to let the World know that I am far 
from thinking it is a Satyr upon the English Nation, to tell 
them they are derived from all the nations under heaven, that 
is, from several nations. Nor is it meant to undervalue the 



5IO A True, and a True Borx Exglisiimax. [?ji"iy'i' 



efoe. 
7"3- 



original of Enj^lish ; for we see no reason to like them worse, 
being the relicts of Romans, Danes, Saxons, and Normans, 
than we should have done if they had remained Britains, that 
is, if they had been all Welshmen. 

But the intent of the Satyr is to point at the vanity of those 
who talk of their antiquity ; and value themselves upon their 
pedigree, their ancient families, and being True Born : whereas 
it is impossible we should be True Bovn ; and, if we could, we 
should have lost by the bargain. 

These sort of people, who call themselves True Born ; and 
tell long stories of their families; and, like a nobleman of 
Venice, think a foreigner ought not to walk on the same side 
of the street with them ; are owned to be meant in this Satyr. 
What they would infer from their long original, I know not : 
nor is it easy to make out, whether they are the better or the 
worse for their ancestors. 

Our English nation may value themselves for their Wit, 
Wealth, and Courage ; and I believe few nations will dispute 
it with them : but for long originals, and ancient true born 
families of English ; I would advise them to waive the discourse ! 

A True English man is one that deserves a character, and 
I have nowhere lessened him, that I know of: but as for a 
True Born English man, I confess I do not understand him ! 

From hence I only infer. That an English man, of all men, 
ought not to despise foreigners as such ; and I think the in- 
ference is just, since what They are to-day, We were yesterday ; 
and To-morrow, they will be like us. 

If foreigners misbehave in their several stations and em- 
ployments, I have nothing to do with that ! The laws are 
open to punish them equally with natives, and let them have 
no favour ! But when I see the Town full of lampoons and 
invectives against Dutchmen, only because they are foreigners; 
and the King [William II I. \ reproached and insulted by 
insolent pedants and ballad-making poets, for employing 
foreigners, and for being a foreigner himself: I confess myself 
moved by it to remind our nation of their own original ; 
thereby to let them see \\hat a banter is put upon ourselves 
in it ; since speaking of Englishmen ah origine, we are really 
all Foreigners ourselves ! 

I could go on to prove it is also impolitic in us to discourage 
foreigners; since it is eas}- to make it appear that the multi- 



? J^l>"ifo3.'] I^'S^'LAR PREJUDICES AGAINST FOREIGNERS. 5 II 

tudes of foreign nations who have taken sanctuary here, have 
been the greatest additions to the wealth and strength of the 
nation ; the essential whereof is in the nunihcr of its inhabi- 
tants. Nor would this nation ever have arrived to the degree 
of wealth and glory it now boasts of, if the addition of foreign 
nations, both as to manufactures and arms, had not been 
helpful to it. This is so plain, that he who is ignorant of it 
is too dull to be talked with. 

The Satyr therefore, I must allow to be just, till I am 
otherwise convinced. Because nothing can be more ridiculous 
than to hear our people boast of that antiquity; which, if it 
had been true, would have left us in so much worse a condi- 
tion than we are now. Whereas we ought rather to boast 
among our neighbours, that we are part of themselves, of the 
same original as they but bettered by our climate ; and, like 
our language and manufactures, derived from them, but im- 
proved by us to a perfection greater than the}^ can pretend 
to. This we might have valued ourselves upon without vanity. 

But to disown our descent from them, to talk big of our 
ancient families and long originals, and to stand at a distance 
from foreigners like the Enthusiast in religion, with a " Stand 
off! I am more holy than thou!" this is a thing so ridiculous 
in a nation derived from foreigners as we are, that I could 
not but attack them as I have done. 

And whereas I am threatened to be called to a public 
account for this freedom, and the Publisher of this has been 
"newspapered" into gaol already for it: though I see nothing 
in it for which the Government can be displeased ; yet if, at 
the same time, those people who, with an unlimited arrogance 
in print, every day affront the King, prescribe [to] the Par- 
liament, and lampoon the Government, may be either 
punished or restrained ; I am content to stand or fall by the 
Public Justice of my native country, which I am not sensible 
that I have anywhere injured. 

Nor would I be misunderstood concerning the Clergy, 
with whom if I have taken any license more than becomes a 
Satyr, I question not but those Gentlemen, who are Men of 
Letters as well as men of so much candour as to allow me 
a loose [liberty] at the crimes of the guilty ; without think- 
ing the whole Profession lashed, who are innocent. I pro- 
fess to have very mean thoughts of those Gentlemen, who 



512 I HAVE NOT Place, Pension, or Prospect. [,j"^-ij"fj';;';; 

have deserted their own principles, and exposed even their 
morals as well as loyalty ; but not at all to think it affects 
any but such as are concerned in the fact. 

Nor would I be misrepresented as to the ini^ratitude of the 
English to the King and his friends ; as if I meant the 
English as a Nation, are so. 

The contrary is so apparent, that I would hope it should 
not be suggested of me. And therefore when I have brought 
in Britannia speaking of the King, I suppose her to be the 
representative or mouth of the Nation as a body. 

But if I say we are full of such who daily affront the King 
and abuse his friends, who print scurrilous pamphlets, viru- 
lent lampoons, and reproachful public banters against both 
the King's person and his Government : I say nothing but 
what is too true. And that the Satyr is directed as such, 
I freely own ; and cannot say but I should think it very hard 
to be censured for this Satyr, while such remains unques- 
tioned and tacitly approved. That I can mean none but 
these, is plain from these few lines, page 27 [p. 541]. 

Ye Heavens, regard ! Almighty JovE, look down 
And view thy injured Monarch on the throne ! 
On their ungrateful heads, due vengeance tafic, 
Who sought his Aid, and then his Part forsake ! 

If I have fallen rudely upon our vices, I hope none but the 
vicious will be angry. 

As for writing for Interest, I disown it ! I have neither 
Place, nor Pension, nor Prospect ; nor seek none, nor will 
have none ! 

If matter of fact justifies the truth of the crimes, the 
Satyr is just. As to the poetic liberties, I hope the crime is 
pardonable ! I am content to be stoned, provided none will 
attack me but the innocent ! 

If my countrymen would take the hint, and grow better 
natured from my " ill-natured poem," as some call it ; I 
would say this of it ; that though it is far from the best 
Satyr that ever was written, it would do the most good that 
ever Satyr did. 

And yet I am ready to ask pardon of some Gentlemen too, 
who, though they are Englishmen, have good nature enough 
to see themselves reproved, and can hear it. These are 



Si^i'^703.] I'"^ ^^^ °^ Satyr is Reformation. 513 

Gentlemen in a true sense, that can bear to be told of their 
faux pas, and not abuse the Reprover. To such, I must say 
this is no Satyr. They are exceptions to the general rule : 
and I value my performance from their generous approbation 
more than I can from any opinion I have of its worth. 

The hasty errors of my Verse, I made my excuse for 
before : and since the time I have been upon it, has been but 
little, and my leisure less ; I have all along strove rather to 
make the Thoughts explicit than the Poem correct. How- 
ever, I have mended some faults in this edition [1703] ; and 
the rest must be placed to my account. 

As to AnsK'crs, Banters, True English Billingsgate ; I will 
expect them till nobody will buy,andthen the shop will be shut. 

Had I written it for the gain of the Press, I should have 
been concerned at its being printed again and again, by 
Pirates as they called them, and Paragraph-Men : but would 
they but do it justice, and print it true, according to the 
Copy ; they are welcome to sell it for a penny, if they please. 

Their Pence indeed are the End of their works. I will 
engage, if nobody will buy, nobody will write ! and not a 
Patriot Poet of them all now, will, in defence of his native 
country (which I have abused, they say), print an Answer io 
it, and give it about, for GOD's sake !J 



THE PREFACE 



[P. Defoe. 
Ljan. 1701. 




He End of Satyr is Reform at ion : and the Author 
though he doubts the work of conversion is at a general 
stop, has put his hand to the plow. 

I expect a storm of ill language from the fury of 
the Town, and especially from those whose English 
talent it is to rail. And without being taken for a conjurer, I 
may venture to foretell that I shall be cavilled at about my mean 
style, rough verse, ajz^ incorrect language; things,! migJit indeed 
have taken more care in. But the book is printed, and though I 
see so7ne faults, it is too late to mend them. And this is all I 
think needful to say to them. 
Ejvg. gak. VII. -j^-i^ 



5 14 Defoe's exterience of foreigners ARROAD.[y,;, 



Defoe. 



Possibly somebody may take me for a Dutchman, in which they 
are mistaken. Btd I am one that would be glad to see English- 
men behave themselves better to strangers, and to Governors also ; 
that one might not be reproached in foreign countries, for belong- 
ing to a " nation that wants manners" 

I assure you, Gentlemen, strangers use us better abroad ; and 
we can give no reason btU our ill-nature for the contrary here. 

Methinks, an Englishman, who is so proud of being called *' a 
good fellow," should be civil: whereas it cannot be denied but 
we are, in many cases, and particularly to strangers, the churlishest 
people alive. 

As to vices, who can dispute oiir intemperance, whilst an honest 
drunken man is a character in a man's praise ? All our Reform- 
ations are banters, and will be so until our Magistrates and 
Gentry reform themselves by way of example. Then, and not till 
then, they may be expected to punish others without blushing. 

As to our Ingratitude, I desire to be understood of that par- 
ticidar people, who pretending to be Protestants, have all along 
endeavoured to reduce the Liberties and Religion of this nation 
into the hands of King JAMES and his Popish powers ; together 
with such who enjoy the peace and protection of the present 
Government, and yet abuse and affront the King who procured it, 
and openly profess their uneasiness under him. These, by what- 
ever names or titles they are dignified or distinguished, are the 
people aimed at. Nor do I disoivn but that it is so much tlie 
temper of an Englishman to abuse his benefactor, that I could be 
glad to see it rectified. 

They who think I have been guilty of any error in exposing the 
crimes of my own countrymen to themselves, may, among many 
honest instances of the like nature, find the same thing in Mr. 
Cowley, in his Imitation of the second Olympic Ode of Pindar. 
His words are these : 

But in this thankless World, the Givers 

Are envied even by the Receivers-: 
'Tis now the cheap and trug;al fashion, 
Katiier to hide, than pay an oblit;ation. 

Nay, 'tis much worse than so ! 

It now an Artilice doth grow, 

Wrongs and Outrages to do; 
Lest men should think wc Owe. 




515 



THE INTRODUCTION. 

Peak, Satyr! For there 's none can tell like 

thee ! 
Whether 'tis Folly, Pride, or Knavery 
That makes this discontented land appear 
Less happy now in Times of Peace, than War ? 
Why civil feuds disturb the nation more 
Than all our bloody wars have done before ? 

Fools out of favour, grudge at Knaves in Place : 
And men are always honest in disgrace. 
The Court preferments make men knaves, in course ; 
But they which would be in them, would be worse ! 
*Tis not at Foreigners that we repine, 
Would Foreigners their perquisites resign ! 
The Great Contention 's plainly to be seen, 
To get some men put Out, and some put In. 
For this, our S[enator]s make long harangues, 
And floored M[ember]s whet their polished tongues. 
Statesmen are always sick of one disease, 
And a good Pension gives them present ease : 
That 's the specific makes them all content 
With any King and any Government. 
Good patriots at Court Abuses rail, 
And all the nation's grievances bewail ; 
But when the Sovereign Balsam 's once applied, 
The zealot never fails to change his Side ; 
And when he must the Golden Key resign, 
The Railing Spirit comes about again ! 



foe. 
701. 



516 The Introduction. [jln"r; 

Who shall this bubbled nation disabuse, 
While they, their own felicities refuse ? 
Who at the wars, have made such mighty pother ; 
And now are fallino;- out with one another ! 
With needless fears, the jealous nation fill, 
And always have been saved against their will\ 
Who fifty millions sterlincr have disbursed 
To be at peace, and too much plenty cursed ! 
Who their Old Monarch eagerly undo, 
And yet uneasily obey the New ! 

Search, Satyr ! search ! a deep incision make ! 
The poison 's strong, the antidote 's too weak ! 
'Tis Pointed Truth must manage this dispute ; 
And downright English, Englishmen confute! 
Whet thy just anger at the nation's pride ; 
And with keen phrase repel the vicious tide ! 
To Englishmen, their own beginnings shew, 
And ask them, " Why they slight their neighbours so ? " 

Go back to elder Times and Ages past, 
And nations into long oblivion cast ; 
To old Britannta's youthful days retire, 
And there for the Trite Born Englishmen inquire ! 
Britannia freely will disown the name ; 
And hardly knows herself, from whence they came. 
Wonders that They, of all men, should pretend 
To birth and blood, and for a Name contend ! 

Go back to causes, where our follies dwell, 
And fetch the dark Original from hell ! 
Speak, Satyr ! for there 's none like thee, can tell. 



517 





The True Born Englishman. 

PART I. 

Herever god erects a House of Prayer, 
The Devil ahva}s builds a Chapel there ; 
And 'twill be found, upon examination, 
The latter has the largest congregation. 
For ever since he first debauched the mind, 
He made a perfect conquest of mankind. 
With Uniformity of Service, he 
Reigns with a general aristocracy. 
No Nonconforming Sects disturb his reign; 
For of his yoke, there 's very few complain ! 
He knows the Genius and the inclination, 
And matches proper sins for every nation. 
He needs no Standing Army Government, 
He always rules us by our own consent ! 
His laws are easy, and his gentle sway 
Makes it exceeding pleasant to obey. 
The list of his Vicegerents and Commanders 
Outdoes your C^sars or your Alexanders : 
They never fail of his infernal aid. 
And he 's as certain ne'er to be betrayed. 
Through all the world, they spread his vast command, 
And Death's eternal empire is maintained. 



Defoe. 
au. 1701, 



5 1 S 7^ // ^" True B r n E n g l i s ii m a n .\^.^ 

They rule so politicly and so well, 
As if there were Lords Justices of Hell ! 
Duly divided, to debauch mankind. 
And plant infernal dictates in their mind. 

Pride, the first Peer, and President of Hell ; 
To his share, Spain, the largest province, fell. 
The subtle Prince thought fittest to bestow 
On these, the golden mines of Mexico, 
With all the silver mountains of Peru ; 
Wealth which, in wise hands, would the World undo! 
Because he knew their Genius to be such, 
Too lazy and too haughty to be rich. 
So proud a people, so above their fate, 
That if reduced to beg, they'll beg in State ! 
Lavish of money, to be counted brave ; 
And proudly starve, because they scorn to save. 
Never was nation in the World before, 
So very rich, and yet so very poor. 

Lust chose the torrid zone of Italy, 
Where swelling veins o'erflow with livid streams, 
With heat impregnate from Vesuvian flames. 
Whose flowing sulphur forms infernal lakes ; 
And human body, of the soil partakes. 
There Nature ever burns with hot desires, 
Fanned with luxuriant air from subterranean fires. 
Here undisturbed, in Hoods of scalding lust, 
The infernal King reigns with infernal gust. 

Drunkenness, the darling favourite of hell, 

Chose Germany to rule ; and rules so well ! 

No subjects more obsequiously obey ! 

None please so well, or are so pleased as they ! 

The cunning Artist manages so well, 

He lets them bow to heaven, and drink to hell. 



r.Defoe.-i X II E True Born Englishman. 519 

Jan. 1701. J 

If but to wine and him, they homage pay, \ 

He cares not to what deity they pray ! V 

What God they worship most ! or in what way ! ) 
Whether by Luther, Calvin, or by Rome, 
They sail for heaven : by wine, he steers them home ! 

Ungoverned Passion settled first in France, 
Where mankind lives in haste, and thrives by chance: 
A dancing nation, fickle and untrue ! 
Have oft undone themselves, and others too ; 
Prompt, the infernal dictates to obey ; 
And in hell's favour, none more great than they I 

The Pagan World, he blindly leads away, 
And personally rules, with arbitrary sway. 
The mask thrown off, Plain Devil his title stands : 
And what elsewhere, he Tempts ; he, here Commands ! 
There, with full gust, the ambition of his mind 
Governs, as he, of old, in heaven designed ! 
Worshipped as God, his paynim altars smoke, 
Embued with blood of those that him invoke. 

The rest, by Deputies, he rules as well, 
And plants the distant colonies of hell : 
By them, his secret power, he well maintains, 
And binds the World in his infernal chains. 

By zeal, the Irish ; and the Rush by folly : 
Fury, the Dane ; the Swede, by melancholy. 
By stupid ignorance, the Muscovite: 
The Chinese, by a child of hell called Wit. 
Wealth makes the Persian too effeminate ; 
And Poverty, the Tartars desperate. 
The Turks and Moors, by Mahomet he subdues ; 
And GOD has given him leave to rule the Jews. 
Rage rules the Portuguese ; and fraud, the Scotch; 
Revenge, the Pole; and avarice, the Dutch. 



5 2 o The True Born English m a n . [Jl' ";'J°j: 

Sat5'r, be kind ! and draw a silent veil ! 
Thy native England's vices to conceal. 
Or if that task 's impossible to do, 
At least be just, and shew her virtues too ! 
Too great, the first ! alas, the last too few ! 



England unknown as yet, unpeopled lay. 
Happy had she remained so to this day, 
And not to every nation been a prey ! 
Her open harbours and her fertile plains 
(The merchants' glory these, and those, the swains'), 
To every barbarous nation have betrayed her! 
Who conquer her as oft as they invade her. 
So Beauty, guarded but by Innocence ! 
That ruins her, which should be her defence. 



Ingratitude, a devil of black renown, 
Possessed her very early for his own : 
An ugly, surly, sullen, selfish spirit. 
Who Satan's worst perfections does inherit. 
Second to him in malice and in force. 
All Devil without, and all within him worse. 



He made her first born race to be so rude, 
And suffered her to be so oft subdued. 
By several crowds of wandering thieves o'crrun. 
Often unpeopled, and as oft undone : 
While every nation, that her powers reduced, 
Their language and manners soon infused. 
From whose mixed relics our compounded Breed 
By spurious generation does succeed : 
Making a Race uncertain and uneven, 
Derived from all the nations under heaven ! 



D.Defoe.-l J jj j, TrUE BoRN ENGLISHMAN. 52I 

Jan. 1701. J -i ■'-' -^ -^ \j 

The Romans first, with Julius Cesar came, 
Including all the nations of that name, 
Gauls, Greeks, and Lombards, and by computation, 
Auxiliaries or slaves, of every nation. 
With Hengist, Saxons; Danes with Sueno came; 
In search of plunder, not in search of fame. 
Scots, Picts, and Irish from the Hibernian shore ; 
And Conquering William brought the Normans o'er. 

All these, their barbarous offspring left behind ; 
The dregs of armies, they, of all mankind : 
Blended with Britains who before were here, 
Of whom the Welsh have blest the character. 

From this amphibious ill-born mob began 
That vain ill-natured thing, an Englishman. 
The customs, surnames, languages, and manners 
Of all these nations are their own explainers : 
Whose relics are so lasting and so strong, 
They have left a Shibboleth upon our tongue, 
By which, with easy search, you may distinguish 
Your Roman-Saxon-Danish-Norman English. 

The great invading ''■' Norman let us know *Snqueror."' 
What conquerors in after Times might do ! 
To every '■■' musketeer, he brought to Town, * or Archer. 
He gave the lands which never were his own. 
When first, the English crown he did obtain ; 
He did not send his Dutchmen home again ! 
No re-assumption in his reign was known ; 
Davenant might there have let his book alone ! 
No Parliament, his army could disband ; 
He raised no money, for he paid in land ! 
He gave his Legions their eternal Station, 
And made them all freeholders of the nation ! 



52 2 The True B orn E ng lishm a n . [f^^^lH: 

He cantoned out the country to his men, 

And every soldier was a denizen ! 

The rascals thus enriched, he called them, Lords ! \ 

To please their upstart pride with new made words : [ 

And Domesday Book, his tyranny records. J 

And here begins our ancient pedigree 
That so exalts our poor Nobility ! 
'Tis that from some French trooper they derive, 
Who with the Norman Bastard did arrive. 
The trophies of the families appear : 
Some shew the sword, the bow, and some the spear, 
Which their Great Ancestor, forsooth 1 did wear. 
These in the Heralds' Register remain, 
Their noble mean extraction to explain. 
Yet who the hero was, no man can tell ! 
Whether a drummer, or a Colonel ? 
The silent record blushes to reveal 
Their undescended dark Original ! 

But grant the best ! How came the change to pass, 
A True Born Englishman, of Norman race ? 
A Turkish horse can shew more history 
To prove his well-descended family ! 
Conquest, as by the * Moderns 'tis exprest, *^'''df^uio^^ 
May give a title to the lands possests : 
But that the longest sword should be so civil. 
To make a Frenchman, English ; that 's the Devil ! 

These are the heroes who despise the Dutch, 
And rail at new-come foreigners so much ! 
Forgetting that themselves are all derived 
From the most scoundrel race that ever lived ! 
A horrid crowd of rambling thieves and drones. 
Who ransacked kingdoms, and dispeopled towns ! 
The Pict and painted Britain, treacherous Scot ; 



p. Defoc.n j-^y.^, True Born E ng l i s ii m a n . ^2X 

Jan. 1701.J -«■■'■' -^ -^ k) yJ 

By hunger, theft, and rapine hither brought ! 
Norwegian pirates, buccaneering Dane, 
Whose red-haired offspring everywhere remain ; 
Who, joined with Norman French, compound the breed 
From whence your True Born Englishmen proceed ! 

And lest, by length of time it be pretended. 
The climate may this modern breed have mended; 
Wise Providence, to keep us where we are, 
Mixes us daily, with exceeding care ! 
We have been Europe's Sink ! the Jakes where she 
Voids all her offal outcast progeny. 
From our Fifth Henry's time, the strolling bands 
Of banished fugitives from neighbouring lands, 
Have here a certain sanctuary found : 
The eternal refuge of the vagabond ! 
Vv'here, in but half a common Age of time. 
Borrowing new blood and manners from the clime, 
Proudly they learn all mankind to contemn. 
And all their race are True Born Englishmen ! 

Dutch, Walloons, Flemings, Irishmen, and Scots, 
Vaudois and ValtoHnes and Huguenots, 
In good Queen Bess's charitable reign, 
Supplied us with three hundred thousand men. 
Religion (God, we thank Thee !) sent them hither, 
Priests, Protestants, the Devil and all together ! 
Of all professions, and of every trade, 
All that were persecuted or afraid ; 
Whether for debt, or other crimes they fled, 
David at Hackilah was still their head. 

The offspring of this miscellaneous crowd 
Had not their new plantations long enjoyed. 
But they grew Englishmen, and raised their votes 
At foreign shoals of interloping Scots. 



524 The True Born E n g l i s ii m a n. \j.;,^\ 



The Royal* Branch, from Pict land did succeed, * KingjAMEsi. 
With troops of Scots, and scabs from North-by-Tvveed. 
The seven first years of his pacific reign 
Made him and half his nation, Englishmen. 
Scots from the northern frozen banks of Tay, 
With packs and plods came Whigging all away; 
Thick as the locusts which in Egypt swarmed, 
With pride and hungry hopes completely armed : 
With native truth, diseases, and no money, 
Plundered our Canaan of the milk and honey. 
Here they grew quickly Lords and Gentlemen, 
And all their race are True Born Englishmen ! 

The Civil Wars, the common purgative 
Which alwa}'s use to make the nation thrive, 
Made way for all the strolling congregation 
Which thronged in pious C'harleJs' Restoration. 
The Royal Refugee our breed restores 
W^ith foreign Courtiers, and with foreign whores ; 
And carefully repeopled us again 
Throughout his laz}-, long, lascivious reign, 
With such a blest and True Born English fry 
As such illustrates our Nobility. 
A gratitude which will so black appear, 
As future Ages must abhor to hear; 
When they look back on all that crimson flood, 
Which streamed in Lindsey's and Carnarvon's blood, 
Bold Stafford, Cambridge, Capel, Lucas, Lisle, 
Who crowned in death, his father's funeral pile : 
The loss of whom, in order to supply. 
With True Born English bred Nobility, 
Six bastard Dukes survive his luscious reign, \ 

The labours of the Italian Castlemaine, I 

French Portsmouth, Tabby Scot, and Cambrian ; J 
Besides the numerous bright and virgin throng 
Whose female glories shade them from my Song. 



jl'n!^';"^:] The True D o rn E n g l i s h m a .\ . 525 

This offspring, if one Age they multipl}'', 
May half the House, with English Peers supply ! 
There, with true English pride, they may contemn 
ScHOMBERG and Portland, new made Noblemen. 



French cooks, Scotch pedlars, and Italian whores 
Were all made Lords, or Lords' progenitors. 
Beggars and bastards by this new creation, 
Much multiplied the P[eera]ge of the nation : 
Who will be all, ere one short Age runs o'er, 
As True Born Lords as those we had before. 

Then to recruit the Commons he prepares, 
And heal the latent breaches of the Wars. 
The pious purpose better to advance, 
He invites the banished Protestants of France. 
Hither, for GOD's sake, and their own, they fled : 
Some for religion came, and some for bread. 
Two hundred thousand pair of Wooden Shoes, 
Who (God be thanked !) had nothing left to lose, 
To Heaven's great praise, did for religion fly ; 
To make us starve our poor, in charity. 
In every port, they plant their fruitful train, 
To get a race of True. Born Englishmen : 
Whose children will, when riper years they see, 
Be as ill-natured and as proud as we ! 
Call themselves English ! foreigners despise ! 
Be surly like us all, and just as wise ! 

Thus from a mixture of all kinds, began 
That heterogeneous thing, an Englishman. 
In eager rapes, and furious lust begot, 
Betwixt a painted Britain and a Scot ; 
Whose gendering offspring quickly learned to bow, 
And yoke the heifers to the Roman plow. 



526 The True Born E .v g l i s h ma n . l]';„^^l°of. 

From whence a mongrel half-breed race there came 
"With neither name or nation, speech or fame. 
In whose hot veins, new mixtures quickly ran, 
Infused betwixt a Saxon and a Dane. 
This nauseous brood directly did contain 
The well-extracted blood of Englishmen. 

Which medley cantoned in a Heptarchy, 
A rhapsody of nations to supply ; 
Among themselves maintained eternal wars, 
And still the Ladies loved the Conquerors. 

The western Angles, all the rest subdued ; 
A bloody nation barbarous and rude : 
"Who by the tenure of the sword, possesst 
One part of Britain ; and subdued the rest. 
And as great things denominate the small, 
The conquering Part gave title to the Whole. 
The Scot, Pict, Britain, Roman, Dane submit, 
And with the English-Saxon all unite : 
And these the mixture have so close pursued, 
The very Name and Memory's subdued ! 
No Roman now, no Britain does remain ! 
(Wales strove to separate, but strove in vain) 
The silent nations undistinguished fall ! 
And Englishman 's the common Name for all. 
Fate jumbled them together, God knows how ! 
Whate'er they were, they 're True Born English now ! 

The wonder which remains, is at our Pride, 
To value that which all wise men deride ; 
For Englishmen to boast of Generation, 
Cancels their knowledge, and lampoons the nation ! 

A True Born Englisliuian 's a contradiction ! 
In speech, an irony ! in fact, a fiction ! 



?an"i7ot'.] The True B o r n E n g l i s h m a n . 527 

A banter made to be a test of fools ! 
Which those that use it, justly ridicules. 
A metaphor invented to express 
A man akin to all the Universe ! 



For as the Scots, as learned men have said 
Throughout the world, their wandering seed have spread ; 
So open-handed England, 'tis believed, 
Has all the gleanings of the world received. 

Some think, of England 'twas, our Saviour meant ; 
The Gospel should, to all the world be sent : 
Since, when the blessed sound did hither reach, 
They to all nations might be said to preach. 

'Tis well that Virtue gives Nobility; 
How shall we else the Want of Birth and Blood supply ? 
Since scarce one Family is left alive, 
Which does not from some foreigner derive. 
Of sixty thousand English Gentlemen 
Whose Names and Arms in Registers remain ; 
We challenge all our Heralds to declare 
Ten Families which English Saxons are ! 

France justly boasts the ancient noble line 
Of Bourbon, Montmorency, and Lorraine. 
The Germans too their House of Austria shew, 
And Holland their invincible Nassau : 
Lines which in heraldry were ancient grown, 
Before the name of Englishman was known. 
Even Scotland too, her elder glory shews ! 
Her Gordons, Hamiltons, and her Monroes ; 
Douglas, Mackays, and Grahams, names well known 
Long before ancient England knew her own. 



528 The T k u r B r n E k g l I s II ma n.S^^ 



D. Defoe- 
an. 1701* 



M[ohu]ns and MiONTAgJues, D[ura]s, and V[eEjRes; 
Not one have English names, yet all are English Peers ! j 



But England, modern to the last degree, \ 
Borrows or makes her own Nobility ; \ 

And yet she boldly boasts of pedigree ! J 

Repines that foreigners are put upon her, 
And talks of her antiquity and honour ! 
Her S[ackvil]les, S[avijles, CTecils, Dela[me'res, \ 

\ 

Your HouBLONS, Papillons, and Lethuliers ] 

Pass now for True Born Englisli Knights and Squires, V 
And make good Senate Members, or Lord Mayors, j 
Wealth (howsoever got) in England, makes 
Lords, of mechanics ! Gentlemen, of rakes ! 
Antiquity and Birth are needless here. 
'Tis Impudence and Money make a P[ee]r ! 

Innumerable City Knights we know, 
From Bluecoat Hospitals and Bridewell flow \ 
Draymen and porters fill the City Chair ; 
And footboys, Magisterial purple wear ! 
Fate has but very small distinction set 
Betwixt the " Counter " and the Coronet. 
Tarpaulin L[or]ds, Pages of high renown, 
Rise up by poor men's valour, not their own ! 
Great Families, of yesterday, we shew ; 
And Lords, whose parents were, the Lord knows who ! 




529 




PART II. 




He Breed 's described. Now, Satyr, if you 
can, 

Their Temper shew ! for " manners make 
the man." 

Fierce as the Britain, as the Roman brave ; 

A.nd less incHned to conquer than to save : 

Eager to fight, and lavish of their blood, 
And equally of Fear and Forecast void. 
The Pict has made them sour, the Dane, morose ; 
False from the Scot, and from the Norman worse. 
What honesty they have, the Saxons gave them ; 
And that, now they grow old, begins to leave them! 
The climate makes them terrible and bold, 
And English beef their courage does uphold : 
No danger can their daring spirit pall, 
A Iways provided that their belly 's fidl. 

In close intrigues, their faculty 's but weak ; 
For generally, whate'er they know, they speak; 
And often their own counsels undermine 
By mere infirmity, without design : 
From whence, the Learned say, it does proceed, 
That English treasons never can succeed. 
For they 're so open-hearted, 3^ou may know 
Their own most secret thoughts, and others' too. 

Ea'g. Gar. VII, 34 



530 The True B o k .y Englishman. \^:X\ 

The Labourin^j^ Poor, in spite of double pay, 
Are saucy, mutinous, and beggarly. 
So lavish of their money and their time, 
That Want of Forecast is the nation's crime. 
Good drunken company is their delight. 
And what they get by day, they spend by night. 
Dull Thinking seldom does their heads engage ; 
But drink their Youth away, and hurry on old Age. 
Empty of all good husbandry and sense. 
And void of manners most when void of pence ; 
Their strong aversion to Behaviour 's such, 
They always talk too little or too much. 
So dull, they never take the pains to Think, 
And seldom are good-natured but in drink. 
In English Ale their dear enjoyment lies, 
For which, they '11 starve themselves and families ! 
An Englishmen will fairly drink as much 
As will maintain two families of Dutch. 
Subjecting all their labour to the pots ; 
The greatest artists are the greatest sots. 



The Country Poor do, b}' example, live : 
The Gentry lead them, and the Clergy drive. 
What may we not, from such examples hope ? 
The landlord is their God, the priest their Pope ! 
A drunken Clergy, and a swearing Bench, 
Have given the Reformation such a drench, 
As wise men think, there is some cause to doubt 
Will purge Good Manners and Religion out 1 



Nor do the poor alone their liquor prize; 
The Sages join in this great sacrifice ! 
The learned men, who study Aristotle, 
Correct him with an explanation bottle ; 



701. 



fan"^53 ^^^^ True B o r x E n g l i s ii ma n. 531 

Praise Epicurus rather than Lysander, 

And "Aristippus more than Alexander. *runkar<rs 

The Doctors, too, their Galen here resign, ":'""^ ^"' 

' ' o ' Canary. 

And generally prescribe specific wine. 

The Graduate's study 's grown an easier task, 

While for the urinal, they toss the flask. 

The Surgeon's Art grows plainer every hour, 

And wine 's the balm which, into wounds they pour. 

Poets, long since, Parnassus have forsaken, 
And say the ancient bards were all mistaken. 
Apollo 's lately abdicate and fled, 
And good King Bacchus governs in his stead. 
He does the chaos of the head refine ; 
And Atom-Thoughts jump into Words by wine. 
The inspiration 's of a finer nature, 
As wine must needs excel Parnassus water. 

Statesmen, their weighty politics refine ; 
And soldiers raise their courages, by wine. 
Cecilia gives her choristers their choice. 
And lets them all drink wine to clear their voice. 

Some think the Clergy first found out the way, 
And wine 's the only Spirit, by which they pray : 
But others, less profane than such, agree 
It clears the lungs, and help,s the memor}'. 
And therefore all of them Divinely think, 
Instead of study, 'tis as well to drink. 

And here I would be very glad to know, 
Whether our Asgilites may drink or no ? 
Th' enlightened fumes of wine would certainly 
Assist them much when they begin to fly ; 
Or, if a fiery chariot should appear. 
Inflamed by wine, they 'd have the less to fear ! 



532 The True Born Englishman. \j.. 



Defoe, 
an. 1701. 



Even the Gods themselves, as mortals say, 
Were they on earth, would be as drunk as they. 
Nectar would be no more celestial drink ; 
They 'd all take wine, to teach them how to think. 
But English drunkards, gods and men outdo ! 
Drink their estates away, and senses too. 
Colon 's in debt, and if his friends should fail 
To help him out, must die at last in gaol. 
His wealthy uncle sent a hundred nobles 
To pay his trifles off, and rid him of his troubles. 
But Colon, like a True Born Englishman, \ 

Drank all the money out in bright champagne ; \ 
And Colon does in custody remain. j 

Drunkenness has been the darling of the realm. 
E'er since a drunken Pilot* had the helm. t* Charles ii.j 

In their Religion, they are so uneven, 
That each man goes his own by-way to heaven ; 
Tenacious of mistakes to that degree, ] 

That every man pursues it separately ; I 

And fancies none can find the \\'ay but he. J 
So shy of one another they are grown ; 
As if they strove to get to heaven alone. 
Rigid and zealous, positive and grave, 
And every grace but Charity, they have. 
This makes them so ill-natured and uncivil. 
That all men think an Englishman the Devil. 

Surly to strangers, froward to their friend, ] 
Submit to Love with a reluctant mind ; V 

Resolved to be ungrateful and unkind. j 

If, by necessity, reduced to ask, 
The Giver has the difficultcst task : 
For what 's bestowed, they awkwardly receive ; 
And always take less freely than they give. 



jln^^itoi :] The True B o r n E x g l i s ii m a n . 5 

The Obligation is their highest grief, 
And never love, where they accept relief. 
So sullen in their sorrows, that 'tis known 
They '11 rather die than their afflictions own : 
And if relieved, it is too often true, 
That they '11 abuse their benefactors too. 
For in distress, their haughty stomach 's such, 
They hate to see themselves obliged too much. 
Seldom contented, often in the wrong; 
Hard to be pleased at all, and never long. 

If your mistakes, their ill opinion gain ; 
No merit can their favour re-obtain ! 
And if they 're not vindictive in their fury, 
'Tis their unconstant temper does secure ye ! 
Their brain 's so cool, their passion seldom burns; 
For all 's condensed before the flame returns : 
The fermentation 's of so weak a matter. 
The humid damps the fume, and runs it all to water. 
So though the inclination may be strong, 
They 're pleased by fits, and never angry long. 

Then if Good Nature shews some slender proof; 
They never think they have reward enough : 
But like our Modern Quakers of the Town, 
Expect your manners, and return you none. 

Friendship, th'abstracted Union of the Mind, 
Which all men seek, but very few can find. 
Of all the nations in the universe 
None talk on 't more, or understand it less ! 
For if it does their Property annoy ; 
Their Property, their friendship will destroy ! 

As you discourse them, you shall hear tlicm tell 
All things in which they think they do excel ; 






534 The T r u e B o r n E ng l i s n m a n . []];, "r^oi: 

No panegyric needs their praise record : 

An Englishman ne'er wants his own good word ! 

His long discourses generally appear 
Prologued with his own wondrous Character. 
But first t' illustrate his own good name, 
He never fails his neighbour to defame ! 
And yet he really designs no wrong : 
His malice goes no further than his tongue. 
But pleased to tattle, he delights to rail, 
To satisfy the lechery of a tale. 

His own dear praises close the ample speech ; 
Tells you, how wise he is, that is, how rich ! 
For Wealth is Wisdom ! He that's rich is wise ! 
And all men learned, poverty despise! 
His generosity comes next. And then, 
Concludes that he's a True, Born Englishiiianl 
And they, 'tis known, are generous and free, 
Forgetting, and forgiving injury. 
Which may be true, thus rightly understood, 
" Forgiving ill turns, and forgetting good." 

Cheerful in labour, when they have undertook it ; 
But out of humour, when they 're out of pocket. 
But if their belly, and their pocket 's full, 
They may be phlegmatic, but never dull. 
And if a bottle does their brain refine, 
It makes their Wit as sparkling as their wine. 

As for the general vices which we find 
They're guilty of, in common with mankind, 
Satyr, forbear ! and silently endure ! 
We must conceal the crimes we cannot cure. 

Nor shall my Verse, the brighter sex defame, 
For English Beauty will preserve her name ! 
licyond dispute, agreeable and fair, 



jl", .^toij The True Born Englishman. 

And modester than other nations are. 

For when the vice prevails, the j^reat temptation 

Is want of money more than inchnation. 

In general, this only is allowed: 

They 're something noisy, and a little proud. 



An Englishman is gentlest in command ; 
Obedience is a stranger in the land : 
Hardly subjected to the Magistrate, 
For Englishmen do all subjection hate. 
Humblest when rich, but peevish when they 're poor ; 
And think whate'er they have, they merit more. 

The meanest English plowman studies law, 
And keeps thereby the Magistrates in awe ; 
Will boldly tell them, what they ought to do, 
And sometimes punish their omission too. 

Their Liberty and Property 's so dear ; 
They scorn their Laws or Governors to fear ! 
So bugbeared with the name of Slavery, 
They can't submit to their own liberty ! 
Restraint from 111 is freedom to the wise, 
But Englishmen do all restraint despise ! 
Slaves to the liquor, drudges to the pots ; 
The mob are Statesmen, and their Statesmen sots. 

Their Governors, they count such dangerous things, 
That 'tis their custom to affront their Kings. 
So jealous of the Power their Kings possessed, 
They suffered neither Power nor Kings to rest : 
The bad, with force, they eagerly subdue ; | 

The good, with constant clamours they pursue, r 
And did King Jesus reign, they'd murmur too ! i 
A discontented nation, and by far 



OjD 



536 T H K True B o r n E n g l t s ii m a n . [ Ji„",f oi." 

Harder to rule in times of peace than war. 

Easily set together by the ears, 

And full of careless jealousies and fears ; 

Apt to revolt, and willing to rebel, 

And never are contented when they're well. 

No Government could ever please them long, 

Could tie their hands, or rectify their tongue ! 

In this, to ancient Israel well compared. 

Eternal murmurs are among them heard. 

It was but lately, that they were oppressed. 
Their Rights invaded, and their Laws suppressed; 
When, nicely tender of their liberty. 
Lord ! what a noise they made of Slavery ! 
In daily tumults shewed their discontent. 
Lampooned their King, and mocked his Government ; 
And if in arms they did not first appear, 
'Twas want of force, and not for want of fear. 
In humbler tones than English used to do, 
At foreign hands, for foreign aid they sue ! 

William, the great Successor of Nassau, 
Their prayers heard, and their oppressions saw ; 
He saw and saved them ! GOD and him, they praised ; 
To this, their thanks ; to that, their trophies raised. 
But glutted with their own felicities, 
They soon their new Deliverer despise ! 
Say all their prayers back ! their joy disown ! 
Unsing their thanks ! and pull their trophies down ! 
Their harps of praise are on the willows hung, 
For Englishmen are ne'er contented long. 

The Reverend Clergy too (and who'd ha' thought | 
That they, who had such Non-Resistance taught, r 

Should e'er to arms against their Prince be brought 1 f 
Who up to heaven did Regal Power advance, 



jln!^if oi ;] The True Born Englishman. 537 

Subjecting English Laws to Modes of France, 
Twisting Religion so with Loyalty, 
As one could never live, and t'other die:) 
And yet, no sooner did their Prince design 
Their glebes and perquisites to undermine ; 
But (all their Passive Doctrines laid aside) 
The Clergy, their own principles denied ! 
Unpreached their Non-Resisting cant, and prayed 
To heaven, for help ; and to the Dutch, for aid ! 
The Church chimed all their doctrines back again ! 
And Pulpit Champions did the Cause maintain ! 
Flew in the face of all their former zeal, 
And Non-Resistance did at once repeal ! 

The Rabbis say, "It would be too prolix ] 
To tie Religion up to Politics ! \ 

The Church's safety is suprcma lex.''* ] 

And so, by a new Figure of their own. 
Their former doctrines all at once disown : 
As \a.ws post facto, in the Parliament, 
In urgent cases have obtained assent ; 
But are as dangerous precedents laid by, 
Made lawful only by necessity. 

The Reverend Fathers then in arms appear, 
And Men of GOD become the Men of War 1 
The nation, fired by them, to arms apply ! 
Assault their Antichristian Monarchy ! 
To their due channel, all our laws restore ; 
And made things what they should have been before. 
But when they came to fill the Vacant Throne, 
And the pale Priests looked back on what they 'd done ; 
How English Liberty began to thrive, 
And Church of England Loyalty outlive ! 
How all their persecuting days were done. 
And their Deliverer placed upon the throne ! 



5 3 S The T r u e B o r n E n g l i s n m a n . [jl„^,'Jri: 

The Priests, as Priests are wont to do, turned tail ! 

They 're Rnglhhmcn ! and Nature will prevail. 

Now, they deplore the ruins they have made, 

And murmur for the Master they betrayed. 

Excuse those crimes, they could not make him mend ; 

And suffer for the Cause they can't defend. 

Pretend they 'd not have carried things so high, 

And Proto-martyrs make for Popery. 

" Had the Prince done," as they designed the thing, 

" Had set the Clergy up, to rule the King ; 

Taken a donative for coming hither. 

And so had left their King and them together : 

We had," say they, " been now a happy nation ! " 

No doubt, we 'd seen a blessed Reformation ! 

For wise men say, " 'Tis as dangerous a thing, 

A Ruling Priesthood as a Priest-rid King ! " 

And of all plagues, with which mankind are curst, 

Ecclesiastic Tyranny 's the worst. 

If all our former grievances were feigned ; 
King James has been abused ! and we trepanned ! 
Bugbeared with Popery and Power Despotic ! 
Tyrannic Government ! and Leagues exotic ! 
The Revolution 's a " Fanatic " Plot ! 
WlILLIAm!, a tyrant, and K ing] JlAMES] was not ! 
A factious army and a poisoned nation 
Unjustly forced King James's Abdication ! 

Ikit if he did, the subjects' rights invade ; 
Then he was punished only, not betrayed 1 
And punishing of Kings is no such crime. 
But Englishmen have done it, many a time ! 

When Kings, the Sword of Justice first lay down ; 
They are no Kings, though they possess the Crown ! 
Titles arc shadows ! Crowns arc empty things ! 



jln^ito!:] The True Born English m an. 5 39 

The Good of Subjects is the End of Kings! 

To guide in war, and to protect in peace. 

Where T^-rants once commence, the Kings do cease ! 

For Arbitrary Power 's so strange a thing, 

It makes the Tyrant, and unmakes the King. 

If Kings by foreign priests and armies reign, ] 

And Lawless Power, against their oaths maintain, \ 

Then subjects must have reason to complain. ) 

If oaths must bind us, when our Kings do ill ; 

To call in foreign aid is to rebel ! 

By force to circumscribe our lawful Prince, 

Is wilful treason in the largest sense ! 

And they who once rebel, most certainly, 

Their GOD, their King, and former oaths defy ! 

If we allow no maladministration 

Could cancel the allegiance of the nation ; 

Let all our learned Sons of Levi try 

This Ecclesiastic riddle to untie ! 

How they could make a step to call the Prince, 

And yet pretend to Oaths and innocence ? 

By the first Address, they made beyond the sea, 
They 're perjured in the most intense degree ! 
And without scruple, for the time to come. 
May swear to all the Kings in Christendom ! 
And, truly, did our Kings consider all, 
They 'd never let the Clergy swear at all ! 
Their politic allegiance they 'd refuse ! 
For whores and Priests will never want excuse. 

But if the " Mutual Contract " was dissolved, 
The doubt 's explained, the difficulty solved. 
That Kings 'when they descend to tyranny, 
Dissolve the Bond, and leave the subject free ! 
The Government 's ungirt ! when Justice dies ; 



540 The True Born Englishman. [" 

And Constitutions are nonentities. 
The nation 's all a mob ! There 's no such thing 
As Lords or Commons, Parliament or King ! 
A great promiscuous crowd, the Hydra lies, 
Till Laws revive, and Mutual Contract ties. 

A Chaos free to choose, for their own share, 
What Case of Government they please to wear. 
If to a King, they do the reins commit. 
All men are bound in conscience to submit ; 
But then that King must, by his oath, assent 
To Poshclatas of the Government : 
Which if he breaks, he cuts off the entail, 
And Power retreats to its Original. 

This Doctrine has the sanction of assent, 
From Nature's universal Parliament ; 
The Voice of Nations and the Course of Things 
Allow that Laws superior are to Kings. 
None but delinquents would have Justice cease, 
Knaves rail at Laws, as soldiers rail at peace ! 
For Justice is the End of Government, 
As Reason is the Test of Argument. 

No man was ever yet so void of sense 
As to debate the Right of Self-Defence : 
A principle so grafted in the mind. 
With Nature born, and does like Nature bind. 
Twisted with Reason, and with Nature too, 
As neither one, nor t'other can undo. 

Nor can this Right be less, when national ? 
Reasons which govern one, should govern all. 
Whate'er the dialect of Courts may tell, 
He that his Right demands, can ne'er rebel ! 



Defoe. 
M\. 1701. 



Taa^itoi'] The True D or n English m an. 541 

Which Right, if 'tis by Governors denied, 
May be procured by force, or foreign aid. 
For "Tyranny! " 's a nation's Term of Grief; 
As folks cry "Fire ! " to hasten in relief: 
And when the hated word is heard about, 
All men should come to help the people out. 



Thus England cried. Britannia's voice was heard, 
And great Nassau to rescue her appeared. 
Called by the universal voice of Fate, 
GOD'S and the People's Legal Magistrate. 

Ye Heavens, regard ! Almighty Jove, look down 
And view thy injured Monarch on the throne ! 
On their ungrateful hands the vengeance take, 
Who sought his Aid, and then his Side forsake ! 
Witness, ye Powers ! It was our Call alone, 
Which now our Pride makes us ashamed to own ! 
Britannia's troubles fetched him from afar, 
To court the dreadful casualties of war : 
But where requital never can be made. 
Acknowledgment 's a tribute seldom paid ! 

He dwelt in bright Maria's circling arms. 
Defended by the magic of her charms 
From foreign fears, and from domestic harms. 
Ambition found no fuel for her fire ; 
He had what GOD could give, or man desire. 
Till Pity roused him from his soft repose, 
His life to unseen hazards to expose. 
Till Pity moved him in our Cause t'appear. 
Pity, that word which now we hate to hear ! 
But English Gratitude is always such, 
To hate the hand which does oblige too much. 



542 The T ru e B o r n E ng l is ii m a n . ["•„"; 



Deroe. 
701. 



Britannia's cries gave birth to his intent, 
And hardly gained his unforeseen assent ; 
His boding thoughts foretold him, he should find 
The people fickle, selfish, and unkind : 
Which thought did to his royal heart appear 
More dreadful than the dangers of the war; 
For nothing grates a generous mind so soon, 
As base returns for hearty service done. 

Satyr, be silent ! awfully prepare 
Britannia's Song and William's praise to hear ! 
Stand by, and let her cheerfully rehearse 
Her grateful vows in her immortal verse ! 
Loud Fame's eternal trumpet, let her sound ! 
Listen, ye distant poles, and endless round ! 
May the strong blast the welcome news convey 
As far as sound can reach, or spirit can fly ! 
To neighbouring worlds, if such there be, relate 
Our Hero's fame, for theirs to imitate ! 
To distant worlds of spirits, let her rehearse ! 
For spirits, without the help of voice converse. 
May angels hear the gladsome news on high, 
Mix with their everlasting symphony ! 
And hell itself stand in suspense, to know 
Whether it be the Fatal Blast or no ? 



BRITANNIA 



??! r 



He Fame of Virtue 'tis, for which I sound ; 
And Heroes, with immortal Triumphs crowned ! 
Fame built on solid Virtue, sivifter flies 
Than morning light can spread my Eastern skies ! 
The gathering air returns the doubling sound. 
And loud repeating thunders force it round! 



?an".toi:] The True B OR N E NG LI SUM AN. 543 

Eclwes return from caverns of the deep : 

Old Chaos dreams on H in eternal sleep ! 

Time hands it forward to its latest urn ; 

From whence it never, never shall return ! 

Nothinf( is heard so far, or lasts so lonf:^ ; 

^Tis heard by every ear, and spoke by every tongue ! 

My Hero, with the sails of honour furled, 
Rises like the Great Genius of the loorld. ■ 
By Fate and Fame wisely prepared to be 
The Soul of War, and Life of Victory. 
He spreads the Wings of Virtue on the throne, 
And every Wind of Glory fans them on. 
Immortal trophies dwell upon his brow. 
Fresh as the garlands he has won but now. 

By different steps, the high ascent he gains ; 
And differently that high ascent maintains. 
Princes for Pride and Lust of Ride make war, 
And struggle for the name of Conqueror. 
Some fight for Fame, and some for Victory ; 
He fights to sa